The thing I’m looking for the most in a relationship is not love but rather understanding. I just want someone who can basically stand being with me I guess. Someone who can accept the fact that there are days in my life that I won’t be able to get out of bed because I find no reason to live. Someone who can learn that loving me won’t be pretty because I detach from reality sometimes and it’s just hard to feel connected in times like that. I just want someone who can be aware of all of my defects and still love me not despite of them but because of them.

I just want to know that if one day I lose my mind we’d still be together no matter what. And we go to the beach together because that’s where I feel safe the most, and she tells me that everything’s going to be okay and that it’s okay to smile despite everything that’s going on in my head. And then she says my name, and it sounds different in her mouth, and I feel safe there. And then I tell her something that I’m terrified to tell her because I’m terrified that it will make her stop loving me but when I do it just makes her love me more.

Or I tell her something very dark and honest like wanting to kill myself, and she doesn’t panic, and we just talk about the things that have been bothering me, and she tells me that she believes in me because she believes that I am a very strong person despite being so fragile and vulnerable. She tells me that no matter what she’ll always understand. She tells me that no matter what she’ll always be there for me even in times when I need space. She tells me that her love for me would always be there waiting whenever I am ready.

Poetry Books


Happy to be with Rupi Kaur’s ‘the sun and her flowers’ 🌻 Confessions of a Wallflower is also a book about depression, growth, and self-love. You can purchase your own copy here: 🌷



I gazed at my face in the mirror this morning, and I saw a cluster of stars—old and new that were imperfectly placed in the galaxy of my own reflection. Some of them placed near each other, and some of them dead, and some of them were about to create a supernova in the near future. But most of them have already passed away—leaving black holes to suck the happiness out of my own universe. But what I have learned since the big bang was that a universe without planets and stars is a universe without beauty. And loving the galaxy of my own imperfections would be the greatest joy of my life.

Confessions of a Wallflower, page 237