Missed Calls Song

people think waiting always looks obvious. like checking your phone every five minutes. like crying every night. like telling everyone you miss him. but most of

sometimes the hardest loss isn’t the person, it’s the version of the future you built in your head. i had to mourn that quietly, accept it gently, and learn how

it’s wild how healing can feel so simple. just two people choosing honesty over ego. choosing presence over being right. choosing softness where there used to b

she wants something real, something solid — but somehow she always finds herself in almosts. in wishful thinking. in texting back the guy she swore off two hear

love doesn’t always end. sometimes it just pauses. it hides beneath missed calls and different cities, behind pride and pain and the lives we built without each

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Love shouldn’t feel like knocking on a locked door. I used to show up hoping one day you’d open it and say, “I missed you.” But all I got was silence. I waited

i kept shrinking my needs, my feelings, my voice just to keep you close. and somewhere along the way, i stopped recognizing myself. healing didn’t start when yo

sometimes love isn’t about finding each other fast, it’s about finding each other right. it’s about all the almosts, the near misses, the quiet moments where yo

there’s something rare about two people meeting again with less ego and more understanding. no rushing, no proving points, just listening. the room feels warmer

i’ve never understood why real feelings are treated like a weakness. why caring too much is framed as a mistake. why loving openly has to be dressed up as strat

there’s something comforting about knowing what’s meant for you won’t miss you. you don’t have to force it. you don’t have to chase it. life moves people around

she communicates. she reflects. she takes accountability. and somehow she’s still the one left with the unanswered questions. she replays conversations in her h

every missed connection had a reason. every delay was protection. if it had happened sooner, it might have broken. if it happened later, it might have never hap

there’s something about those little in-between moments that tell you everything. the pauses. the quiet laughs. the seconds where nothing “perfect” is happening