I stay...

... with the ones who feel until it hurts to breathe.

The ones with no skin, only nerves.

Hearts exposed, beating loud and reckless, no mute button, no safe mode, no exit.

I stay with those who love like it’s a crime they’re willing to commit.

Who fall knowing it might destroy them and jump anyway.

Who cry in public, in private, in the middle of the night, not to be saved, but because holding it in would kill them faster.

I stay with the ones who laugh like they’re mocking death, who know everything ends and still throw their heads back like eternity is watching.

The ones who don’t pretend they’re okay.

Who shake when something touches them.

Who can’t hide when a word, a memory, a look splits them open.

I stay with those who get wrecked by simple things... an old song that smells like loss, a voice that sounds like home, a silence that says everything.

I stay with people who don’t do “a little.”

Who don’t ration themselves.

Who love all the way or not at all.

Who give without keeping score, who would rather lose everything than lose their truth.

Who choose depth even when it costs them comfort, even when it costs them people.

I stay with those who are starving for real, who choke on small talk and fake smiles, who want conversations that bruise, that dig into the soul, that talk about dreams that failed, wounds that still bleed, and the quiet, brutal hope that somehow survives.

I stay with the ones who don’t just want the smile... they want the cracks behind it, the darkness, the fear, the parts you hide to be loved.

I stay with those who feel the world like an open wound, raw, burning, unbearable... and still refuse to become cruel.

Who break and don’t harden.

Who bleed and don’t numb.

Who get shattered and instead of building walls, they open their chest even wider.

These people are not safe.

They feel too much.

They love without armor.

They hurt constantly.

But in a world obsessed with being untouched, they choose to stay alive.