You Called It Love, I Called It Survival

“If This Is Love, Why Did It Leave Me Feeling So Empty?” Amara sat still in the middle of her room, legs pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around a pillow that no longer smelled like comfort. Outside the window, rain trickled against the glass in slow, uneven drops—parang sinasadya ng langit na sabayan ang paghina ng loob niya. She wasn’t crying. Not anymore. The tears had long run dry. What replaced them was something softer, quieter, almost worse—pagod. For the longest time, she thought love would save her. That when someone finally said “I love you,” everything inside her that ached would fall back into place. That someone’s warmth could become home. That being chosen would finally erase the sting of always being an afterthought. Pero hindi pala ganun ang love sa totoong mundo. Minsan, the person who makes you feel safest is also the person who slowly stops seeing you. And when that happens, you don’t break all at once. You disappear in parts. She looked at her phone—no new messages. No calls. No "kamusta ka" or "nasan ka na." And yet, deep down, she knew—he wasn’t a bad person. He was just never fully hers. In another life, maybe that would’ve been enough. But in this one… she was tired of being almost. She stood, walked toward the window, and pressed her fingertips to the cold glass. "This isn't a story about someone who left. This is a story about someone who stayed too long in places where she was no longer truly seen." And in that moment, she promised herself: this time, she would stay… only where she belonged.