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.

Maybe love is just warmth shared on a cold day…

I’ve always been the kind of woman who believes that laughter heals, hugs matter, and hot tea can fix almost anything.

When November comes, I find myself craving not holidays or gifts - just a real conversation, shared smiles, and the feeling of being close to someone who understands without words.

So, if you’re reading this while it’s cold outside - imagine I just passed you a cup of tea. And maybe… a little piece of my warmth.

Some memories feel like a hug…

Do you ever get that feeling when a simple scent or song brings back a moment so real you could almost touch it?
For me, it’s always the smell of cinnamon and rain - it takes me back to evenings full of laughter and warm hands that once held mine.

I don’t live in the past, but I keep those memories like tiny candles - they remind me what love feels like.

And maybe, one day soon, I’ll create new ones… with someone who understands the beauty of small things.