HunnyVerma008
I still remember the day I learned how to be lonely. This was never meant to be a guide on how not to be sad-I'm terrible at that. Most days, I just stare out of my dorm window, watching the rain blur everything, especially the girl I left behind.
In this boarding school, I make friends with ghosts and old secrets. The laughs and whispered stories at night all carry the same echo: my heart's not here. It's still stuck in the goodbye I never said. She's the girl I wrote poems for in the margins. Now she lives only in the quiet regret I can't shake.
Friendship here feels like two broken boats tied together, trying not to sink. I smile in crowded rooms while something inside me slips through the cracks. Maybe growing up is just learning how to hide sadness better.
I keep looking for meaning in the mess, staying up at 3 AM like the answers might come in the dark. I try to write myself a happy ending, but the truth is-I don't know how. She's the one who taught me how to cry.