Sometimes loneliness ceases to be pain. It becomes a ritual, something almost unruly.
You come home, turn on some music, pour some wine—and you don't wait for anyone. Not because there's no one, but because you don't want to share yourself.
You taste the power over time and yourself. It's a special pleasure—not having to explain, not having to adapt, not having to depend.
But somewhere deep down, a tiny hunger still lingers—the desire for someone to see your self-sufficiency and want to destroy ...

Silence between two people is louder than any words.
It fills space, stretches time, squeezes the air. It says, "I know everything"—even if no one has said anything.
Sometimes silence is a punishment. Sometimes it's protection. And sometimes it's a way to feel in control.
You can play with words, but silence is always more honest. There are no excuses, no stage settings—only the truth, from which you can't run.
And yes, it is in silence that the most dangerous thoughts are born. There are no wit...

Some people become addicted. Not love, not passion—just addicted. Like nicotine: it destroys, but without it, it's empty.
You know this person isn't yours, that the connection is toxic, but your hand instinctively reaches for the screen to check if they've texted.
And it's not words that matter—the very fact of their existence is there, somewhere.
This isn't love. It's chemistry at the level of pain. When the adrenaline of anticipation becomes a substitute for warmth, and ignoring becomes a form...

November teaches me to slow down…

The air is colder, the days shorter, but my heart feels… softer. Maybe that’s what this month does - it makes you value the warmth around you even more.

Sometimes I look out the window, watching the rain slide down the glass, and think - the most beautiful moments are the quiet ones. A warm cup, calm music, and someone who makes you feel safe.

Maybe that’s what I’m waiting for - not perfection, just peace that feels like home.