The Weight of Unspoken Emotions

I have made up my mind: this was it. I am going to let go of Tanmay. It was a decision born out of frustration, late-night self-reflections, and countless conversations with my inner voice. Crushes were supposed to be fleeting, weren't they? A brief moment of admiration, a dash of butterflies, and then... nothing. But this? This felt like carrying a storm within myself—unpredictable and uncontrollable.

The first step to letting go, I decided, was avoidance. If I could reduce the moments she saw him, perhaps my heart would stop its relentless rebellion. Tanmay was a senior, so it wasn't like I saw him every day. And yet, on those rare occasions when their paths crossed, my world would come to a standstill. The warmth in his casual smile, the confidence in his stride—everything about him seemed to have been designed to capture my attention.

That day, I planned my route meticulously. I avoided the canteen during peak hours, skipped the library after 5 PM—a time when Tanmay often came to return books—and even took the longer staircase to the second floor to dodge his favorite study spot. I thought I was doing well until I turned a corner, and there he was, standing with a group of friends. My breath hitched, and I carefully laid plans evaporated into thin air.

He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his head tilted slightly back, his face glowing in the golden afternoon light streaming through the window. In that moment, my resolve crumbled. I lowered my gaze and hurried past, hoping he hadn't noticed me. But the damage was already done. My chest felt tight, my cheeks flushed, and the memory of his laugh played on a loop in my mind for the rest of the day.

"This is impossible," I whispered to myself that night, staring at the ceiling of my dorm room.

My roommate, Pooja, was already fast asleep, but my mind refused to rest. She thought about the poem she had come across on Instagram a few weeks ago:

"I hope now you know it, it was not 'just a crush'...

And 'out of sight, out of mind', is not what always happens. I wish you would have once asked,

'How you doing?' I wish you would have known the conversation I had in my head with you."

Those words felt like they were written for me. They encapsulated everything I had been feeling but couldn't articulate. Every time I resolved to unlove him, my heart betrayed me. It was as if my emotions were mocking my determination.The next day, I tried a new approach. "Distraction," I thought, "that's the key." I threw myself into my coursework, volunteering for extra assignments, and even joined a study group I had been avoiding for weeks. For a while, it worked. I was too busy analyzing case studies and preparing presentations to think about Tanmay. But then came the evening break, and my mind wandered back to him.

I opened Instagram to distract herself further and immediately regretted it. There he was, tagged in a group photo with friends. My heart sank as she spotted a girl standing next to him, her arm casually draped over his shoulder. The girl's radiant smile and effortless beauty made my insecurities bubble to the surface. Were they just friends? Or was there something more? The questions gnawed at me, and before I knew it, I was deep-diving into the girl's profile, piecing together a story that may or may not exist.

"Why do I do this to myself?" I groaned, shutting my phone and burying my face in my hands. I hated the way my mind spiraled every time I thought of him. It wasn't healthy; I knew that. But knowing and doing were two entirely different things.

By the weekend, I had reached my breaking point. That evening, I met up with Ankita and Riya in the campus café. The trio often gathered here to decompress from their hectic schedules.

"Okay, spill," Ankita said, noticing my pensive expression.

"You've been unusually quiet today."I hesitated before blurting out,

"I can't stop thinking about him."Riya exchanged a knowing glance with Ankita.

"Tanmay?" she guessed.I nodded, (her cheeks flushing).

"I thought I could move on, but it's like... the more I try, the harder it gets."

Ankita leaned forward. "Look, I get it. You feel something for him, and it's not easy to switch that off. But maybe the problem isn't that you like him—it's that you're being too hard on yourself for it."

"I agree," Riya chimed in. "You're treating your feelings like a math problem to solve. Maybe you just need to accept them for now."

I sighed. "But it's exhausting. I feel ridiculous for liking someone who probably doesn't even know I exist."

"That's not true," Ankita said firmly. "You're amazing, Aditi. And even if nothing comes of this, it's okay to feel what you feel. You don't need to punish yourself for having a heart."

Their words, though simple, brought a strange sense of comfort. Aditi realized she had been so focused on erasing her emotions that she hadn't allowed herself to process them.

The next day, I began journaling. I wrote about the moments when I thought of Tanmay, the emotions that surfaced, and the struggles I faced in trying to move on. It became my safe space, a place where I could untangle the web of my thoughts without judgment.

One evening, while flipping through my journal, I came across a line she had written earlier that week: "How can I unlove what feels so true when every glance pulls me to you?" I stared at the words, my chest tightening. It was the truth I had been avoiding. My feelings for Tanmay weren't just a fleeting crush. They were deeper, more profound. And that scared me.

But instead of running from that fear, I decided to face it head-on. I didn't have to force myself to unlove him overnight. I could take it one day at a time, allowing myself to feel without letting those feelings consume me.

As the semester progressed, I found myself smiling more. I still thought of Tanmay, but the intensity of my emotions began towane. I learned to focus on the present, cherishing moments with my friends, diving into my studies, and discovering new passions.And while I didn't know what the future held, I knew one thing for sure: I was stronger than I had given myself credit for. Letting go wasn't about erasing my feelings. It was about learning to carry them with grace without letting them define me. And in that, I found a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time.