Fun & Laughs

Part 3 :: The Weight Of Being Loved 💖💫💖
Part 3 :: The Weight Of Being Loved💫💖💫

There was only one problem.

She loved me...

far more than I was ready to be loved.

At first...

I convinced myself it was just a phase.

Maybe the excitement would fade.

Maybe she'd slowly realize that I wasn't someone worth building dreams around.

So...

I did something I never thought I'd do.

I started telling her every reason why she shouldn't choose me.

I told her about my responsibilities.

My uncertain future.

The distance between our countries.

The things I still hadn't become.

The parts of myself I wasn't proud of.

I even painted the worst possible future...

hoping she'd finally say,

"Maybe you're right."

But she never did.

Every reason I gave her to leave...

she quietly turned into another reason to stay.

I said,

"What if one day I become too busy?"

She smiled.

"I'll wait."

I said,

"What if I can't give you the life you deserve?"

She answered,

"I don't love your future. I love you."

I asked,

"What if this never works?"

And she said something...

I'll probably remember for the rest of my life.

"Then at least I'll know I loved honestly."

There are people...

who promise forever.

And then there are people...

who simply become it.

Without asking for applause.

Without demanding certainty.

Without needing guarantees.

Love is strange.

Sometimes...

it isn't measured by how tightly someone holds your hand.

It's measured by how calmly they hold your fears.

That night...

I stared at our chat for a long time.

For the first time...

I wasn't afraid of losing her.

I was afraid...

of becoming the reason she lost herself.

Because love should feel like peace.

Not dependency.

Not pain.

Not waiting for one notification to decide whether your day was good or bad.

And somewhere between her hope...

and my honesty...

I realised something.

Sometimes...

the kindest thing you'll ever do for someone...

is become the person they hate...

instead of the person who destroys them slowly.

The next morning...

I made the hardest decision of my life.

To be continued...

Part 4.

Heyyy

I have a genuine question... Who convinced a lot of people on jemaa that sounds to infest my of myhalf feed that treating their profile like a daily attendance sheet is the right move/ or the next flex ? 🧐📝

Every single day pple be like : 'Hi' / 'Hello' / 'Good morning' /good evening / bonjour/ bonsoir/ 'Ça va/ bonne nuit ...'🙄😒🤦

Look, I know everyone is free to post whatever they want, but when your entire presence/ profil is just a cycle of empty greetings with absolutely zero substance, it really makes you question if their is an aim/ a version behind this crap. 🔍👀

Hence i will just friendly suggest that if you have absolutely nothing interesting to say, maybe just... enjoy the silence ladies and gentlemen ?

Because waking up to read a play-by-play of standard dictionary greetings is a different level of uninteresting. 💀

May our paths never cross if your peak conversational skill is just a hey/bonjour / 'bonsoir'.

Let’s leave the bare-minimum energy in the drafts, please and thank you! 💅✨

#sorry_not_sorry_at_all
#stop_embarassing_yourself

Ladies, be careful about guys with any piercings.

Cos why would any man want his body to get penetrated?

🤨

Heyy 🙋🏻‍♂️💙

https://youtube.com/shorts/dPkgOELeOhA?si=W5-m-aH1c3OMQekC😅😅😅

Muzz/Shaadi apps: “You have a new match!”
Me: “Another episode unlocked.” 🍿😎

It only takes my mom 2 seconds to roast me...😂

If women ruled the entire world, would they consider marriage mandatory? Please give your opinion.

Part 2 💀💖💖
Part 2 💀💖💖 : The Language She Never Had To Speak.
We kept talking.
One day became another.
Then another.
Until somehow...
checking my phone had quietly become part of her routine.
Every morning...
I'd wake up to 10 or sometimes even more messages.
Not because I wasn't replying.
But because she'd keep updating me about everything.
What she was doing.
What she was eating.
Where she was going.
What made her laugh.
What annoyed her.
What made her think of me.
Sometimes I'd disappear for a few hours...
and she'd simply continue talking,
trusting I'd eventually come back and read every word.
She never made conversation feel like a responsibility.
She made it feel like home.
She'd tell me before leaving the house.
She'd tell me when she got back safely.
She remembered the smallest details I had forgotten about myself.
And somehow...
she celebrated even my smallest victories more than I did.
People think love is confessed with three words.
I don't.
I think...
love quietly hides inside habits.
Inside, "Did you eat?"
Inside, "You're home now?"
Inside, "Tell me when you wake up."
Inside paragraphs nobody asked for...
but someone still chose to write.
So one day...
I asked her.
"Pearl... do you love me?"
There was no hesitation.
No pretending.
No games.
Just an honest...
"Yes."
And strangely...
I wasn't shocked.
Because by then,
her actions had already whispered
what her words finally admitted.
"The purest love isn't loud.
It doesn't compete.
It simply keeps choosing you...
even when you never asked to be chosen."
But that's exactly when...
I realised something terrifying.
She wasn't the problem.
I was.
To be continued... Part 3 ....... 💫💖