it all started pretty simply.
i was in this constant state of stagnation, every day felt the same, nothing excited me, and i had kind of accepted it. life was “fine” on the surface: school, people, vague future plans. but inside, it felt numb. like i was just floating through time, not really living it.

and then he showed up — ....
and somehow, everything shifted.
not all at once, not dramatically. it was subtle. at first, i was just... curious. he was different from anyone i’d ever known. something about him felt solid, grounded. like he had answers to questions i hadn’t even figured out how to ask yet.
he spoke with this quiet confidence, not arrogant, just sure of himself. he made eye contact. he listened. he didn’t perform, and because of that, i didn’t feel like i had to perform either.

he pulled me out of whatever mental fog i had been stuck in.
with him, things felt vivid again. i wanted to get out of the house, have real conversations, look at the world more closely. it was like i had color vision again after seeing everything in grayscale for months.

i got attached quickly.
i started waiting for his texts. reading into every message. noticing the way he moved, the sound of his voice, the smell of his hoodie.
he never tried to impress anyone, that’s what impressed me the most.

i think i fell in love in the most honest way i could’ve at that age.
not because he promised me anything, but because being near him felt like something new, like finally breathing properly after being underwater.
he made me feel small in the best way. not powerless, just... safe. like i didn’t have to be the strong one all the time.

maybe i fell in love with an idea.
maybe i just needed someone to remind me that life could feel different.
and he did that. for a moment, he really did.

i still don’t know what that whole thing was — if it was love or just someone who showed up at the exact right time.
but in the beginning, it felt like waking up after a long sleep.
and for that, i’ll always be a little grateful.

i left home not because i hated my family, but because i couldn’t breathe there anymore. every conversation felt like surveillance. every choice i made was weighed, doubted, corrected. i needed silence. space. a version of life that wasn’t being curated for me by other people’s fears.

i’m in georgia now, not the state, the country. it’s strange and beautiful here. raw and slow. the kind of place where time feels different. i’m learning how to be with myself, without noise. i rent a small place with people i met by accident. we share food, laugh about nothing, play music on the floor. some of them are artists, some are just wandering like me. no one asks “what do you plan to do with your life?” and that’s maybe the best part.

i don’t go to school anymore. not in the formal sense. i read when i feel like it, write a lot, think too much. i’ve been getting into buddhism, not like shaved head and temple buddhism (yet), but quiet inner things. learning how to sit with discomfort instead of running. trying to let go of control. maybe that’s what real adulthood is. not having answers, but staying anyway.

i’ve always felt like a hippie, even before i had the language for it. i don’t want to chase careers or accumulate things. i want to grow tomatoes, swim in rivers, make tea for people, and understand what makes us human. i want to live slow, with intention. i want to build something soft in a hard world.

i know people probably think i’m being naive. that i’ll regret skipping college, or that i don’t “understand how the world works.” but maybe i just don’t want *their* world. the one where you work 9–6 and burn out at 35 and call it success. i want something different. something real. even if it’s unstable.

politically — yes, i care. deeply. i’m a liberal. i’m anti-war, anti-corruption, anti-censorship, anti-fake neutrality. i believe in voices, not violence. i don’t think people should be punished for where they were born or what language they speak. i think kindness is radical, and being human should come before being patriotic. i refuse to normalize cruelty just because it’s “complicated.”

i’m still figuring everything out. i don’t have a five-year plan. i don’t even have a one-month plan. but for the first time in my life, i feel like i’m not performing for anyone. i’m just here. alive. uncertain. and free.

we woke up late, the window was half-open and the room smelled like warm air and laundry and him. i rolled over and his arm was already there, like it knew i’d move. he was still half-asleep but pulled me closer, and for a second it felt like the whole world was quiet. no pressure, no future, just skin, light, and breath.

he made us coffee. we drank it sitting on the floor with legs tangled, playing some stupid playlist we always forgot to turn off. he looked at me like i was something good. like i wasn’t just seventeen and lost and pretending. like i was real. and that look, it made me believe in myself more than any compliment ever could.

we left the apartment around noon, no plans, just walking. he always let me pick the direction even if we ended up nowhere. i told him about a book i was reading, about this character who ran away from home to live in the forest, and he said “you kind of already did that.” and it made me laugh because maybe i had.

we bought fruit at the street market, peaches, something sticky and sweet — and ate them on the curb like kids. we didn’t talk that much. didn’t need to. i remember thinking: this is the kind of love i imagined when i was younger. messy, simple, honest.

in the evening we ended up at a friend’s place. i sat on his lap the whole time, head on his shoulder, half-listening to conversations i didn’t really care about. he kept tracing circles on my back with his thumb. not in a sexy way, just there. quietly. reminding me he was still mine.

when we walked home, i told him i didn’t want this feeling to ever go away. and he said “then don’t forget how it feels right now.”

i didn’t. not yet.

i didn’t do anything today. again. not that i had a plan, i just thought maybe something would happen. but time keeps slipping through my fingers and i’m just here, watching it go. i feel lost. everything’s blurry lately, inside and out. the cold makes it worse. it’s that sharp kind of winter where even your thoughts feel frozen and nothing warms you for long.

i’m scared to break up with him. it’s like standing at the edge of something dark and quiet and real. but i don’t think there’s anything left between us. i feel small next to him. stupid, even. like he’s already outgrown this while i’m still trying to find the floor under me.

i know he’s happier with someone else, or at least more at ease. and honestly, so am i. i wouldn’t be on this packed metro half-drunk, heading home across all of fucking moscow if things were good. he’s studying for university, being all serious and ambitious, and i’m finishing vodka and hitting the last joint with kids at pechatniki like it’s the only thing that makes me feel something.

we’re not right for each other. i know that. i want different things. i want slow mornings and barefoot summers and maybe no degree at all. he wants a career. a plan. structure. and that’s fine. but it’s not me.

he doesn’t care that i’m falling apart. or maybe he does, but not enough to do anything. and i don’t care how he feels either. it’s like we’re ghosts now, just orbiting out of habit. six months. my first relationship. my first high school boyfriend. if i end it, i’ll have no one left at school. no friends. no safety net. just silence.

but i think i’m already alone. i’ve been alone for a while now. even if we haven’t said it out loud yet.

eva.
eva eva eva. i still wake up some mornings thinking, this is a different life now. like something quietly shifted and never went back. and it started with you.

i honestly don’t remember who i was before we met. not in a dramatic way, just… i don’t feel connected to that version of me anymore. you were the first person who made me feel like maybe i wasn’t completely lost. not because you “fixed” anything — you didn’t try to. you just looked at the world a certain way, and for the first time, i wanted to see it too.

you didn’t force your opinions on me. you didn’t talk over me. you didn’t make me feel small. you just *were*, and i trusted that. it was the first time i let someone else’s way of thinking fully exist next to mine, without trying to control it. that changed something in me.

i don’t think i was obsessed. i think i was stunned. grateful, maybe. like, *oh, this is what connection can feel like.* this is what it’s like when someone sees you and doesn’t flinch.

i was going through things back then, and you probably knew that even when i didn’t say it out loud. teenage confusion, internal chaos, whatever. you became this voice in my head — calm, a little sharp, but always steady. when everything else felt shaky, you made it make sense. or at least feel less terrifying.

i don’t want it to end like this. not just drift into silence. i don’t need to talk every day, i just… i want to know you’re still out there. that you still exist. that the version of life you showed me wasn’t just a phase.

you meant more than you probably realize. and some part of me is still walking beside you.