My Desire is Clearer

Where the grass is turning brown in patches, I buried my memories. I protect my heart from negativity because I deeply yearn for a kind of happiness, I’ve never truly experienced. I long to fall in love again, so I’ve chosen to bury my painful memories deep beneath the bare umbrella trees, making space for new beginnings. As I stroll through the wild, open fields where patches of grass are turning brown, I catch sight of a solitary wildflower and many scattered pebbles at my feet. Those haunting memories linger, surrounded by skeletons of bare trees with bent trunks. A cool breeze brushes against my face, but it offers no refuge from the harsh rays of the sun. I squint against the light, torn between dwelling on the ghosts of my past or embracing the brilliance around me. In preparation for love, I’ve created a list of essential steps before I open my heart again. I’ve buried the pain and lowered the drawbridge to keep negativity out. My desire is clear: I want to be happier than I’ve ever been and ready to fall in love once more. Indeed, I have buried those painful memories under the bare umbrella trees, paving the way for a brighter future. In the year 2025, I find myself navigating the complexities of love with a sincere yet heavy heart. Despite my efforts to embrace romance, it feels as though no suitor can truly capture my attention or touch my heart. Instead, my thoughts are consumed by a burgeoning passion for poetic creativity and the art of storytelling through short videos that celebrate the things I cherish most. TikTok, my vibrant online platform, has become my canvas for self-expression, prompting me to convey my emotions in ways I never thought possible. This creative outlet has drawn me in so deeply that I often wonder if this obsession is now the new norm of our time. Loving oneself, it seems, is a simpler path; when disappointment arises, it falls solely on my shoulders, and I bear that burden alone. Meanwhile, it feels as though even Hollywood's famed writers have lost their touch, unable to craft the kind of compelling love stories that once swept us off our feet. Their narratives now echo the harsh realities of life, grounded in truth yet devoid of the magic we once craved. It pains me to think that true love, with all its passion and depth, has become a fleeting memory, leaving us yearning for the deeper connections we seem to have lost. A good love story cannot be written, our feelings toward one another are gone.