I Literally Went From Begging To IDGAF If You Leave Attitude. I'm Tired Of The Push And Pull. So If You

I just have to pull some strings here and plan ahead. I should have a better plan for 2022. Two plans. Just in case the first one fails.

The restaurant was charming, the kind of place you’d only stumble upon if you knew exactly where to look. Warm lights cast a soft glow over the table, and the hum of quiet conversation filled the space. We had been talking about everything—our favorite places to visit, the movies that shaped us, even our love-hate relationship with dating apps. It was one of those nights where everything felt easy. Until the food arrived.

The waiter approached, carefully setting a large, beautifully arranged seafood platter between us. Shrimp, mussels, oysters—the works. The kind of dish that would impress any other date. But for me? It was like watching a horror show unfold in slow motion.

I froze, staring at the plate as my stomach sank. The last time I’d come into contact with seafood, I ended up in the hospital, my throat closing before I could even realize what was happening. The mere sight of it was enough to send my heart racing.

“Everything alright?” he asked, noticing my hesitation.

I glanced up, not wanting to make a scene, but there was no avoiding it.

“Uh… I’m actually allergic to seafood,” I said, my voice quieter than usual.

His eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, I saw the panic flash across his face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he said, his hand immediately going to his forehead like he couldn’t believe his own mistake. “I didn’t even think to ask. I swear I’ll double-check next time!”

I couldn’t help but smile, even as the waiter, who overheard, swiftly took the plate away to replace it with something less life-threatening.

“It’s okay,” I replied, waving it off, though I couldn’t quite hide the nervous laugh that followed. “Happens more often than you’d think.”

He looked relieved, but the guilt still hung in the air. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, his expression sincere.

“No, really, that’s on me. I should’ve asked. I don’t want to accidentally kill you on a first date,” he said with a grin, though the joke barely masked his embarrassment.

I laughed, the tension breaking a little more. “Yeah, that would definitely put a damper on things.”

As we waited for the replacement dish, the conversation flowed again, though with a few seafood-related jokes sprinkled in.

“I’ll be sure to stay far away from shellfish from now on,” he added with a sheepish smile. “You’ve made me rethink my entire seafood-loving existence.”

“Well,” I said, “at least you’ll never forget this date.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No chance. Next time, I’m asking about everything. I’m talking allergies, preferences, zodiac signs—whatever I need to know to avoid another seafood disaster.”

I couldn’t help but be charmed by how quickly he turned the situation around. It wasn’t just that he apologized; it was that he genuinely cared. He wasn’t trying to brush it off or make me feel like I was overreacting. He was thoughtful, and the way he handled it—so effortlessly kind—was something I didn’t expect but appreciated more than I could say.

As the night went on, it became less about the seafood mishap and more about how we laughed through it. That small moment could’ve been awkward or embarrassing, but instead, it brought us closer. His genuine concern and the way he quickly promised to do better next time told me a lot about who he was.

When the new dish finally arrived—this time a seafood-free option—he grinned. “Now, how’s that for a safer choice?”

I smiled back. “Perfect."

The night wrapped up, and as we left the restaurant, the cool breeze brushing past us, I found myself thinking about how one small mistake revealed so much about someone’s character. It wasn’t about avoiding errors or being perfect; it was about how we handle those little bumps along the way.

As we said goodnight, he leaned in and said, “Next time, it’s on me. And I promise, no seafood.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing. “Just steer clear of lobsters, okay?”

We parted ways, and as I walked home, I realized something. It wasn’t the flawless date that stuck with me—it was the way he turned a near disaster into something that felt like the beginning of something real. A small mistake, yes, but one handled with so much care that I couldn’t help but look forward to whatever came next.

Some moments cut so deep they become woven into who we are. Choosing to close the door on someone who brought so much pain isn’t just a decision; it’s survival. In the quiet spaces of my heart, I still hear the echoes of betrayal, disappointment, and heartbreak. Whenever I think of letting him back in, a wave of loathing rises up, reminding me that stepping back into that pain would mean losing myself all over again.

Let’s be clear: there are people who take and take, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in their wake. He was one of those people. The way he twisted my trust into a weapon against me was nothing short of monstrous. I loathe him, not just for what he did, but for the way he made me feel—small, insignificant, and unworthy of love. He took my vulnerability and used it as a means to manipulate and control, and the sheer audacity of that betrayal is enough to make my blood boil.

The memories haunt me like phantoms in the night. I remember the promises made, the tender words whispered in the dark, and the way they all crumbled like ash in the face of reality. He was a storm that wrecked my peace, and now, the thought of inviting that chaos back into my life makes my stomach churn. I would rather drown in despair than suffer through another chapter of torment that he would bring.

It’s infuriating how someone can waltz in and out of your life, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart. I have spent countless nights wrestling with the demons of self-doubt and despair he unleashed upon me. I have fought against the notion that I am somehow responsible for the pain he inflicted. But now, with every ounce of strength within me, I declare that I will not let him back in. I refuse to be a victim of his charm once more, a puppet in his twisted game of manipulation.

The agony of betrayal runs deep, and the scars left behind are reminders of the strength I’ve found within myself. The choice to keep him out is not just about protection; it’s about self-respect. I would rather die than endure the suffering of reliving the torment he caused. The thought of opening that door, of offering him a second chance he does not deserve, fills me with a deep, aching dread.

So, I stand firm. I choose to honor my pain rather than let it fester into something more destructive. I refuse to let him back in, to allow his toxicity to seep into my life once more. Every moment spent apart is a testament to my resilience, a reminder that I have the power to reclaim my life from the wreckage he left behind.

To anyone who finds themselves at a similar crossroads: choose yourself. Choose peace over chaos. The road ahead may be paved with heartache, but it’s also a path toward healing and strength. Embrace the emotions that arise—let the anger and sadness wash over you, but don’t let them define you. You are not a product of someone else’s actions; you are a warrior who has fought and survived.

In the end, my decision is not just about him; it’s about my freedom. I will not suffer the consequences of his choices any longer. I will not allow the ghosts of my past to dictate my future. I close this chapter for good, sealing the door with a promise to myself: I am worthy of better.

And scars are souvenirs you never lose The past is never far

And it’s good!

I don’t know if peaches tastes good with condensed milk....

Three days to go, we’ll be saying hello to 2021. But it feels like we’re stuck in 2020 because of the pandemic. 

It's too powerful I just wanna die.

I’m not in a hurry but it’s just so fucked up lol

Reading 1984 by George Orwell felt like a gut punch, and imagining it happening in the real world—or even in my own country—made it even more heart-wrenching. The way the Party strips away not only freedom but also the ability to think and feel independently is terrifying. As I turned each page, I couldn't help but cry, feeling as though my heart was being torn apart, especially when I thought about how easily such a regime could rise in any society if we're not vigilant.

In Orwell’s world, the total control over truth, history, and even relationships is brutal. If something like this were to unfold in my own country, it would mean the end of everything we hold dear—freedom of speech, connection with loved ones, and our sense of self. The idea of being watched constantly, never being able to trust even your closest friends or family members, is suffocating. Winston’s struggle against this control was a flicker of hope that I desperately clung to as I read, but when that hope was crushed, I felt an immense sense of loss, as if it could be our future, too.

If the government in my country ever wielded such total power, where dissenting opinions were erased and loyalty to the state became more important than truth or love, it would be devastating. The betrayal Winston experiences—both from Julia and from the world itself—felt personal, like it could happen to any of us under similar circumstances. The worst part was Winston's final breaking point, when he surrendered to Big Brother. I couldn’t help but think of how our humanity could be torn apart in the same way if our thoughts and emotions were manipulated to this extreme.

1984 made me cry not just for the characters but for the possibility that such a future could exist anywhere, even here. The thought that people could be forced to betray their own hearts and minds is terrifying, and it left me questioning how strong we would be in the face of such oppression. Would we resist, or would we, like Winston, eventually break?

what's on your mind?

Not everyone is meant to be in your future. Some people are just passing through to teach you lessons in life.