Do you think I ever wanted this life?

No.

This isn’t the life I dreamed of. It’s not the life I ever asked for.

Because for me, life doesn’t play out like those comforting stories. You know, the ones where the heroine is broken, but then the hero comes into her world and slowly puts her back together.

That doesn’t happen in my life.

Every time I dare to trust someone, they either cheat on me or vanish without a single word.

No closure. No explanation. Just… silence.

And somehow, my brother always gets dragged into it. Like some twisted cycle I can’t escape from — where healing becomes impossible because everything turns into drama.

I try. I really do. I give people chances. I forgive.

But all they ever leave behind is a heavier silence than before.

There’s no one who really gets me. No one who sees me behind the fake smile, behind the “I’m okay.”

I’ve always been the one who listens. The one who nods when someone cries. The one who says, “I understand,” even when I’m falling apart inside.

But has anyone ever asked me, “How are you, really?”

No.

No one ever stays long enough to listen.

And over time, I’ve learned a cruel truth:

The people you want… don’t want you back the same way.

So I wear a mask. I put on a smile.

I laugh like I’m fine.

I chill like nothing’s wrong.

But inside?

Inside, I’m just a girl — aching for one person. Just one.

One person who would choose me.

Not because I’m useful. Not because I’m quiet.

But because they see me — all of me — and still choose to stay.

But I’m still waiting.

And no prince ever comes. Not for me. Not like they do in other girls’ stories.

I don’t know how they find that kind of love…

I want it too.

Desperately.

People tell me, “You have a family, go talk to them.”

But what’s the point?

They think I’m being dramatic. They say I’m acting.

They don’t understand that this isn’t drama.

This is me breaking — softly, silently.

Do you know my parents didn’t even want me?

They Wanted a boy.

My mother took medicine for it. The kind many Indian women take when they pray for a son.

But instead… I was born.

And sometimes, I hate that.

I hate being born as me.

I hate being born into this country, this culture, this box of expectations.

If I had a choice, I would’ve been a tree —

Silent, still, unnoticed.

No feelings. No pain. Just peace.

But I wasn’t given that choice.

I was born as a girl. In a world that never wanted her.

And now I’m tired.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of surviving.

Let’s See What Happens Next

Let’s see what happens next in my life,

Will it be peace, or just more strife?

Will someone hear the silence I keep,

Or will I cry myself to sleep?

I smile all day, I laugh on cue,

But deep down, I’m fading too.

They see a girl who’s calm, at rest,

But no one knows I’m not my best.

I wait for love that doesn’t stay,

For words that others throw away.

I carry pain behind my eyes,

And wear my wounds in quiet disguise.

Maybe tomorrow will bring me light,

Maybe I’ll stop this endless fight.

Or maybe I’ll just breathe and try,

Still broken, but learning not to cry.

So here I am, not strong, just tired,

With a heart that’s bruised but still inspired.

Let’s see what life will choose to send…

A new beginning, or just pretend.

my second episode on my first relationship. so don’t forgot to read that.

I dated for the first time when I was 18. That was my college phase — when everything was new, a little exciting, and a bit confusing too. I never thought I’d be the one to make the first move, but I did. I approached him.

Why? Because I felt safe around him. He wasn’t loud or overly charming. He was quiet, calm — the kind of guy who doesn’t draw too much attention, but when he speaks, you want to listen. And at that time, I used to hear people around me talking about love, dating, and relationships. Somewhere deep inside, I believed in something simple:

“If I ever date someone, he’ll be my first and last.”

I wasn’t the girl who wanted to jump from one relationship to another. I wanted one person, one bond, one heart. So, I gathered the courage and told him honestly,

“You’re my first and last. After you, I’m not going to make anyone else my boyfriend.”

He looked at me for a second. Then he said something that I still remember clearly:

“I’ll hurt you.”

That hit me. I paused and asked,

“So… I take that as a no?”

He replied,

“I need some time.”

And I said,

“Take your time. As much as you want.”

Two weeks passed. No answer. I kept checking my phone every day. Overthinking. Doubting. Hoping.

So, I asked again,

“What do you think about me? Is it a yes or a no?”

He didn’t give me a straight answer. Instead, he said,

“My cousin said you’re the right girl.”

That confused me. I had only met his cousin twice. Once at a gathering, and once just in passing. So that made it even weirder.

I asked him again,

“Then when are you going to give your final answer?”

He said,

“Soon.”

Then one day, he invited me to watch a movie at the theater. I thought we were going as a group, with friends. But it turned out to be just the two of us. And during the break — the movie’s interval — he finally said yes.

That’s how it all started. Our so-called relationship.

We barely talked. Honestly, I had no clue what couples were supposed to talk about. I was new to all this. And from the very beginning, I told him clearly:

“I don’t want any physical relationship. So don’t expect that from me.”

He said,

“Okay.”

Our relationship lasted only 78 days. Around two and a half months. In that time, we went on maybe three or four dates. The first two months were quiet, simple, and nothing dramatic. I didn’t demand much. I didn’t expect fancy things. I just wanted honesty and consistency.

But then, something changed.

I noticed he started chasing another girl. He started giving her attention, and I could feel his distance from me growing.

One day, all of us were sitting in the classroom as a group. He was sitting close to me. But the moment that girl walked in, he moved away. Physically shifted.

Like I was something to hide.

That moment?

It hurt. A lot.

But again, I stayed silent. Our relationship was a secret, after all.

A few weeks later, I received a message from him. He said,

“We’re good friends. What we’re doing is wrong. Our friends are getting suspicious.”

I didn’t react. I’ve never liked drama. I don’t cry easily. I don’t beg. And most importantly — I hadn’t fallen for him. I wasn’t emotionally attached the way people think girls always are.

So I replied,

“Okay.”

Then he added,

“We’ll still be friends.”

But for me? That’s not how it works.

How can you go back to being just friends with someone you’ve kissed? With someone you opened your heart to, even a little?

No. That’s not me.

So, I slowly started cutting him off. Quietly. Without shouting, without asking “why,” without blaming him.

I just faded away — like I never existed.

The truth is, we only shared one kiss. Nothing more. I had drawn my boundaries from the very beginning, and I never crossed them. No matter what he expected from me, I stayed true to myself.

Now when I think back… I feel like maybe he thought I would beg him to stay. That I’d cry. Chase him. Make a scene.

But guess what?

He was wrong.

Because I didn’t beg.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t even look back.

I moved on. Quietly.

Like I always do.

I also wrote a poem style quote.

"I Didn’t Cry"

I didn’t cry when he left,

Because my heart was never held —

Only tested.

I didn’t beg him to stay,

Because I never needed

A half-hearted love.

I walked away with silence,

And in that silence,

I found my peace.

what do you think I did right or wrong? answer me in my comments, pls. if you want to read my more stories than like and comment .

You all read my second episode, right?

So now, here I am, starting a new story—a story that begins after my breakup.

From the outside, I looked totally fine. I smiled, I laughed, I chilled in front of everyone at college. But the truth? No one really knew what I was hiding.

Because our relationship was a secret.

Nobody knew we were together. So when we broke up, no one asked me if I was okay. No one knew there was even a reason to ask. I just kept going with my fake smile, pretending everything was normal.

Now, you might think I never saw him again. Or he never saw me. But that’s not true.

We saw each other. A lot.

We just acted like we didn’t. I walked straight past him like he wasn’t even there. I pretended not to notice anyone, especially him. And honestly? That was my way of surviving.

But even pretending doesn’t take away that uncomfortable feeling inside. After the breakup, I cut off a lot of my friends too. I isolated myself because everything just felt… heavy.

And whenever I walked past his group of friends, their stares made me shrink.

The way they looked at me—it made me feel like I wasn’t even wearing clothes. I know, that probably sounds crazy to you. But that’s how I felt—vulnerable, exposed, like I was constantly being judged.

And then, the worst part—I heard from one of my old friends what he was telling people.

“He said you forced him.”

“He said you kissed him first.”

What?!

I was shocked. Angry. Hurt.

Because the truth is… he kissed me. And I had told him from the beginning—I wasn’t comfortable with physical stuff. I made that clear. But he still crossed that line first.

And now he was lying?

Saying I forced him? Like I was the one to blame?

It felt like betrayal on top of heartbreak. For a moment, I wanted to confront him. I wanted to tell the whole world the truth. But then I asked myself—why?

Why should I waste my energy on someone like him?

So I didn’t fight. I didn’t defend myself. I ignored him and his friends completely. I kept my distance, held my head high, and kept walking.

Then one day, something unexpected happened.

I was in my 5th semester, sitting with my hostel roommate. And guess what? He knew her.

So he came over. Said hello. Smiled. Asked how I was doing. Talked like we were old friends.

I smiled too.

I answered cheerfully. Calm. Collected. Like his presence didn’t even affect me.

And maybe… it didn’t anymore.

That was the last time I saw him. I haven’t met him since. And honestly? I don’t want to.

When the breakup first happened, I felt a little guilty. Like maybe I lost a friend too. But now?

Now I feel nothing.

He doesn’t even deserve to be my friend.

And life… it’s still going. But not exactly smoothly.

When I came back home from college, the peace I wanted didn’t exist. There were fights. Loud voices. Screaming. Every single day felt like chaos. And in the middle of it, sometimes, I’d have these dark thoughts.

I felt like giving up. Like ending everything.

But somehow, something inside me always stopped me.

Maybe it’s hope.

A little hope that my charming prince—the one I mentioned in my first episode—is still out there. Somewhere.

Maybe he’ll find me when the time is right.

Isn’t life strange? Or maybe… kind of funny?

Because sometimes, when things get too loud, when people become too much, I just wish…

I could become a tree.

Yeah, I know it sounds weird.

But think about it.

A tree doesn’t talk. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t betray anyone. It just is. Standing still, quiet, strong.

It gives shade. Air. Comfort. It holds the earth together. It stands tall for humans, birds, animals—without expecting anything in return.

If I were a tree, maybe I could finally rest. No drama. No fights. No fake people.

Just peace.

I could be that quiet comfort for someone who’s tired. A silent friend to someone who feels alone. A place to breathe. To feel safe.

Maybe being a tree is braver than we think.

So yeah… sometimes, I wish I could be one.

But until then, I’ll stand tall like one.

Because even if life shakes me, I’ll root myself deeper.

And keep growing.

“Sometimes, I don’t want to be a person anymore. I just want to be a tree—quiet, still, and strong. No noise, no pain, just peace.”