alovesecrecy.

Silent Promises Some dates are soft echoes we carry without knowing why. Four years. Four autumns. Four quiet seasons since a day that now feels quietly sacred. The sugarrushhh feeling is still intact, and I hope that it stays for a long time. Some things are not measured in time, but in the way they quietly root themselves into who we are. This day is a reminder — of growth, of laughter, of weathering storms. Of holding onto something without needing to name it. Of finding peace in the simple act of choosing to stay. The years pass, but some moments remain untouched by time. October 10 is one of them. Here’s to the journey, in all its quiet strength. October 10 — a soft echo I carry with me, without need for words.

Things My Mind Wandered There comes a point when holding on does more damage than release. Letting go isn’t weakness — it’s survival dressed as surrender. I’ve spent nights wondering if love is meant to last, or if sometimes, it’s only meant to teach. The truth is, not every connection survives the storms. Some wither, some drift, and some leave scars too deep to forget. But I am learning: not everything broken needs fixing. Not everyone who leaves needs chasing. Not every goodbye needs a reason. Letting go is fragile. It hurts in silence. It feels like tearing yourself apart. But perhaps it is also the first step toward peace. And maybe, someday, I’ll thank myself for this release. For now, I carry the echo, and I move on.

Survival Mode Survival mode. That’s where I am now. Not thriving, not soaring — just holding on, one day at a time. Waiting for my own space in a couple of years feels like waiting for a lifeline, a place where I can finally breathe again. A place where the walls will no longer whisper of the past but instead hold only the silence of peace. I hope Romeo lasts with me until then. I want to keep him without worrying that one day he’ll be gone. The toxicity is surreal, two-faced — but for once, I want to be selfish. To prolong this, until what comes may. Viper and Oak… perhaps they’re okay? It feels as if nothing happened. So much drama. Now it doesn’t feel strange to admit that I am done. It’ll just leave another scar. Oak, though — he’s so pathetic and weak. Too cowardly to hold up his end of the storm. And I’m left wondering how much longer I can keep carrying the weight of others when I barely have enough strength for myself. Survival mode means not collapsing, even when my mind th...