🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾

Writing for exhausted souls who still romanticize the dark.

Noir thoughts • longing • intimacy • silence

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

I love impulsive people. Those who live on sensations. Of emotions. I love people who improvise kisses, hugs, jokes and smiles... Who have something rare and precious.. Like spontaneity and sincerity of soul. They don't use a script to get around But they only use their heart...

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@smitha20304 Thanks

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

I wanted one quiet night.
Then your memory opened the door,
sat beside me,
and turned every heartbeat
into a love letter I couldn't stop writing.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Aasim0555 Exactly 💯

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

Mother went where my voice can’t reach, and every room she touched now echoes with a silence too heavy to hold.

Yet at dusk, when the sky breaks into soft gold, I feel her again... in the wind, in my hair, in the ache behind my smile.

And for a moment, I am her child again. 💔🥀
#vss365

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Aasim0555 Yes. Perfect point

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

I don't think most women are tired because they're weak.

I think they're tired because they've spent a lifetime being strong in ways nobody notices.

Some learned it as little girls.

Learning when to stay quiet.

When to be agreeable.

When to make everyone comfortable.

Others learned it later.

Through love.

Through motherhood.

Through heartbreak.

Through responsibility.

But almost every woman I know has carried something she was never given permission to put down.

The strange thing about emotional weight is that nobody can see it.

There is no cast.

No scar.

No proof.

You can laugh.

Go to work.

Answer messages.

Take care of people.

Show up for everyone.

And still feel exhausted in a way sleep cannot fix.

Many women spend years becoming what everyone needs.

The reliable one.

The understanding one.

The patient one.

The one who remembers.

The one who listens.

The one who notices when something is wrong before anyone says a word.

People admire those women.

They call them strong.

Kind.

Selfless.

What they rarely ask is what it costs to be that person every day.

Because eventually something begins to happen.

You become so good at understanding everyone else that you forget what it feels like to be understood yourself.

You know everyone's struggles.

Everyone's fears.

Everyone's moods.

Everyone's needs.

Yet somehow your own needs keep moving to the bottom of the list.

Not because they matter less.

Because you've become used to carrying them alone.

And after enough years, exhaustion starts looking normal.

You say, "I'm okay."

Even when you're not.

You keep giving.

Keep helping.

Keep showing up.

Keep holding everything together.

Until one day you realize you've been available to everyone except yourself.

The loneliness isn't always being alone.

Sometimes it's sitting in a room full of people who love you and still feeling unseen.

It's being appreciated for what you do while quietly wishing someone would notice what you're carrying.

Not because you want to be rescued.

Just because you're tired of being invisible.

I don't think most women are asking for grand gestures.

I think they're asking for something much simpler.

A moment to rest.

A place where they don't have to be strong.

A conversation where they don't have to hold the entire emotional weight of the room.

Someone who notices the heaviness before they have to explain it.

Because there is a particular kind of sadness that comes from being loved for how much you give while wondering whether anyone would stay if you had nothing left to offer.

And maybe that's where the exhaustion comes from.

Not from caring.

Not from loving.

But from spending years carrying invisible things while everyone assumes you're carrying nothing at all.

The strongest women I know aren't the ones who never break.

They're the ones who learned how to keep smiling while carrying more than anyone ever realized.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Abid36947870813 You are right..The series is endless. ..

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Nithya_Shrii Love is measured in presence, not promises.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@H1GHERWAYS Wise words

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@H1GHERWAYS Yes it is..

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Marwenmmk 🤍🤗

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

I remember the exact night I almost told you everything.

Nothing remarkable happened.

No storm. No grand confession. No dramatic goodbye.

Just your name glowing softly on my screen while the rest of the world slept.

I stared at the conversation for so long that it felt less like a message thread and more like a doorway. One sentence and I could have stepped through it. One sentence and you would have known what had been living inside me for months.

The strange thing is that I never wanted to possess you.

What I wanted was somehow worse.

I wanted to be known by you.

Not the version of me everyone else seemed to meet. Not the careful one. Not the composed one. I wanted you to see the parts of me that stayed awake after midnight. The parts that remembered too much. The parts that could turn a single moment with you into something I carried for weeks.

I had written the message already.

More than once.

I wrote about how often I thought of you when I shouldn't have.

How certain songs felt haunted after you touched them.

How entire days could be ruined by your absence and repaired by a single notification.

How I kept finding traces of you in places where you had never actually been.

I never sent any of it.

Instead, I watched the little blinking cursor waiting for courage I didn't have.

Maybe that was the closest I ever came to complete honesty.

Because the truth was never that I loved you.

The truth was that I had started arranging parts of my inner life around the possibility of you.

Even now, that realization unsettles me.

How quietly devotion arrives.

How it slips into ordinary moments unnoticed.

How one person can become a room inside your mind and somehow remain there long after they've stopped visiting.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had pressed send.

Not because I think it would have changed everything.

But because there is a particular kind of loneliness reserved for words that never leave your mouth.

And some nights, when the silence feels especially alive, I still think about that unsent message.

Not as a regret.

Not as a mistake.

Just as the closest I ever came to handing someone the map to every place inside me that still carries their name.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@H1GHERWAYS 🤗

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@iamwitwicky @TheDualToungue 🤗

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@StoicEnigmas So true 🤩

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@JuJu37189419 @RobertGreene Rightly said 👍

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@ysuckme In shadows, patience whispers: success is mine.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@DrHadizaib Memory fades, but emotion is permanent ink.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@findyoumf The hardest truths are gifts disguised as pain.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@Hilenceee Acknowledgment deepens connection more than desire.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@RiddleSphere Every ignored post is a seed of skill.

[🆅🅰🅻🅴🅽🆃🅸🅽🅾 @WildeDire]

@talkwithgt Interesting perspective 👍