bekks.corner: illicit affairs
- May 31
- 2 min read
If circumstances were different, yes. If i was okay with breaking the rules, maybe. Don't quit your job over a girl. The risk is quite bigger then i think you know. I appreciated your effort, your empathy, your willingness, your get it done attitude and i wanted to acknowledge that. Also the fact that you struggle in your personal life and i know work doesn't make that any easier. And people need to acknowledge the good someone does for them. People need to see who people are for them. Yes you are one of the most stunning people in this world and that messes with my brain a little. Your humor, engagement, morals, acceptance, your understanding, and conversation most of all. Would i consider? Yes. But could I from this beautiful point of view I have? No. I didn't see it all. I understood it very differently. There's many ways I feel about this. I was gaining a friend a fucking friend. Someone I could truly get along with. What was so wrong about that, Colton and Tanya did and what stopped it was co workers wondering if there was favoritism. And Martin he knows so much of me in the broken department and if that was unprofessional WELL FUCK. I also thought i was getting a friend. I know my ADHD gets in the way of responding back to people and thats one reason why I dont have friends. I also know my social skills went to shit after not having a social outlet. I also know I dont have free range in getting out. So I thought you were becoming a friend and someone I could get along with and the feeling was mutual. But it wasn't. It was more for you and that took for me a loop. Not a loop, a trip around the world and through the whole solar system. How i can't seem to make friends because people also want more with me. I wanted a friend at work. So your letter still lays on my floor and I strive to understand still.

Thank you for helping me find my voice.
For years,
I buried it beneath numbness,
beneath silence,
beneath the weight of days
that passed without leaving a mark.
I taught myself not to feel.
It was easier that way.
No hope.
No longing.
No grief.
Just the slow and quiet surrender
of a heart forgetting
why it ever beat so fiercely.
But now I feel again.
And God, it hurts.
The feeling returns carrying ghosts—
a decade of missed chances,
unspoken words,
closed doors,
and all the versions of my life
that died before I could reach them.
Regret has become a second shadow.
Sorrow walks beside me.
Sometimes I wonder
if waking from the numbness
was a mercy at…