Unsentfeelings قصص

This is personal writing. Not a debate. Not a discussion. Not open to fixing. Read if you want. Leave quietly if you don't.

A quiet poem about giving warmth and emotions in messages to someone who replies without the same feeling. 💬💛

This book isn't just a story. It's a reflection of real moments, real feelings, and real people, told through fiction. Inspired by real-life experiences, this book captures the quiet parts of love: the late-night conversations, the mixed signals, the friendships that almost became something more, and the feelings you never get to confess. Through Ryx's perspective, this story explores what it's like to care deeply, to wait without certainty, and to love in silence, while life keeps moving forward. Some moments are fictional. Most emotions are real. 💔 Inspired by true experiences.

These are the notes I kept for myself. Just me. Nobody else. For a guy. For... two years. Somehow I decided it was my job to analyze every little thing he did-or didn't do-and convince myself it meant something. Spoiler: it didn't. Nothing happened. Ever. And yet, here I am, keeping receipts in my head, tiny proofs of... literally nothing. Yes, self, congratulations, you're obsessed. Totally normal. Definitely not crazy. Two years of nothing - and counting... Two years of almosts. Two years of quietly hoping he might do... something. Anything. A word. A glance. A gesture. Something I could finally point to and say, "aha! proof!" But no. Just air. Just moments stretched thin until they almost meant something. In my head. And only in my head. And the funny part? The real question wasn't "does he like me?" It was "why the hell do I care so much?" Why do I let him live rent-free in my brain. Quietly. Insistently. While doing literally nothing. Why do I give him all this space, this attention, this... energy, for zero return? Bravo, self. Truly, the ultimate one-sided rom-com. Starring me. Obsessive me. Overthinking me. And yet, somehow, I keep taking notes. Because even if he doesn't notice... I notice. Always.

some feelings are easier to type than say out loud. typed, erased, repeated. is a collection of poems, late-night thoughts, unfinished feelings, love that stayed too long, memories that still ache, and the kind of emotions people pretend they've moved on from. these pages were written in moments of overthinking, healing, missing, loving, breaking, and becoming. maybe you'll relate to some of them. maybe you'll wish you didn't.