I was never the kind who was accepted—at the start or the end. My life was a cycle of trying, failing, and wondering why the light never touched me. The world moved around me, and I moved through it in silence, carrying shadows in my chest.

My soul lived in a place not many understand—somewhere between aching and nothingness. Not just dark, but empty. A soul that wandered too far for too long, lost in its own abyss.

And then… I met him.

I don't remember the exact moment. Maybe it was when he laughed, or maybe it was the silence in between his words. But the soul inside me stopped wandering. It froze, startled by something it never knew existed—light. Not the kind that blinds. The kind that feels like home.

I didn’t know I was searching for him until I found him. My soul paused, looked at him, and whispered, "There."

It was never just about love. It was about the way my world slowly began to fill with something other than silence. The way my heart learned to beat with more than just survival. Smiles began to sneak in, soft and trembling, like unsure sunlight after years of rain.

He didn’t even know what he did. He didn’t know he became my shelter. My soul’s resting place. He didn’t know I looked at him like the universe had finally spoken kindly to me.

I began to hope. I began to wait. I began to feel.

But he was never truly mine. He belonged to a world I couldn’t reach, someone else’s orbit, someone else’s name on his future. I saw it, even when I pretended not to. And still, I loved him. Still, I stayed.

Because when your soul finds its home, it doesn’t care if it’s temporary. It builds anyway.

And when he began to fade—no, not all at once, but slowly, like twilight slipping into night—I felt it in my bones. The cold returned. The silence crept in again. But this time, it came with grief.

My soul, the one that danced in his light, started to dim.

He is the one I showed my heart to. The first, the only. And he is the reason no one else will ever see it again.

I can’t love again.

I can’t feel again.

The door that once opened for him—wide and trembling—is shut. Sealed by everything he awakened and everything he left behind.

And yet… the light he brought into my darkness will always carry his shadow. That can’t be erased.

He may not walk beside me, but he will exist in every silent poem I write, every song I hum when no one’s listening. He will be the reason I look at the sky and ache.

I don’t know if he’ll ever understand. Maybe that’s okay.

But in this lifetime, in all lifetimes—my soul will remember.

Because he wasn’t just a chapter. He was the whole story.

But even if he never reads the story we wrote in silence, I will remember every word.

And if I ever get the chance to live again—

I’ll still find him.

I’ll still choose him.

Because my soul doesn’t love lightly. And it has chosen him.

In every life, in every time, In every version of me that dares to exist— It will always, only, be him.