It's Not you ( The beginning of mirage) - 1

[SiRa]

I’m not here to seek sympathy, attention, or validation.
I’m sharing my story because writing it down helps me process what I went through, and maybe, it might help someone else who has felt the same confusion and pain.

This isn’t easy for me to put into words—it takes courage to revisit memories that once broke me. But I also know that silence only adds to the weight we carry.

I want this thread to be a place I can return to whenever life feels heavy—a reminder that if I could walk through this fire and survive, then I can face anything.

This is not about blame. It’s about truth, healing, and finding strength in the darkest corners of my journey.​

--
Almost four years ago—after taking a two-year break from ZoZo—I logged back in.

I wasn’t in a great place mentally.

I had heard a rumor about the passing of a user who had once meant a lot to me. I was grieving, confused, and just trying to make sense of things.

That’s when a random user dropped a simple “hello” on my wall.

I ignored it. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

But later, I felt guilty for brushing it off. So I went to his private chat and messaged him:
“Sorry.”
He replied:
“It’s okay.”

The next day, I saw him online again.

I don’t know why, but something nudged me to continue the conversation. So I messaged him again.

My first words?
“Hello, I’m married… just saying, before we start talking.”
He replied:
“I’m married too… but we can still be friends.”

And just like that, a new chapter began.

— light, warm, and full of effortless connection.
We talked about everything: food, fitness, pets, gardening, daily routines, and random life stories.
We grew comfortable with each other, slowly opening up about our personal struggles.
There were no judgments, no expectations, no demands.

It became a safe space I didn’t even know I was longing for.

That phase was beautiful.
Just honest conversations.
Just connection.
Just presence.

It felt like a honeymoon phase

And then one day, out of the blue, I received a message from him:

*I don’t feel we should continue this any further ..I feel it’s best for both of us to stop here* .

Goodbye.”

Continued ....

 

[Sweetheart]

I’m not here to seek sympathy, attention, or validation.
I’m sharing my story because writing it down helps me process what I went through, and maybe, it might help someone else who has felt the same confusion and pain.

This isn’t easy for me to put into words—it takes courage to revisit memories that once broke me. But I also know that silence only adds to the weight we carry.

I want this thread to be a place I can return to whenever life feels heavy—a reminder that if I could walk through this fire and survive, then I can face anything.

This is not about blame. It’s about truth, healing, and finding strength in the darkest corners of my journey.​

--
Almost four years ago—after taking a two-year break from ZoZo—I logged back in.

I wasn’t in a great place mentally.

I had heard a rumor about the passing of a user who had once meant a lot to me. I was grieving, confused, and just trying to make sense of things.

That’s when a random user dropped a simple “hello” on my wall.

I ignored it. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

But later, I felt guilty for brushing it off. So I went to his private chat and messaged him:
“Sorry.”
He replied:
“It’s okay.”

The next day, I saw him online again.

I don’t know why, but something nudged me to continue the conversation. So I messaged him again.

My first words?
“Hello, I’m married… just saying, before we start talking.”
He replied:
“I’m married too… but we can still be friends.”

And just like that, a new chapter began.

— light, warm, and full of effortless connection.
We talked about everything: food, fitness, pets, gardening, daily routines, and random life stories.
We grew comfortable with each other, slowly opening up about our personal struggles.
There were no judgments, no expectations, no demands.

It became a safe space I didn’t even know I was longing for.

That phase was beautiful.
Just honest conversations.
Just connection.
Just presence.

It felt like a honeymoon phase

And then one day, out of the blue, I received a message from him:

*I don’t feel we should continue this any further ..I feel it’s best for both of us to stop here* .

Goodbye.”

Continued ....

This hit harder than I expected. It's so rare to see someone open up with such honesty and vulnerability. The way you described that fleeting connection—how it started, how it grew, and how it ended—is something many people silently relate to but rarely talk about

 

[Deepak Kiran]

I’m not here to seek sympathy, attention, or validation.
I’m sharing my story because writing it down helps me process what I went through, and maybe, it might help someone else who has felt the same confusion and pain.

This isn’t easy for me to put into words—it takes courage to revisit memories that once broke me. But I also know that silence only adds to the weight we carry.

I want this thread to be a place I can return to whenever life feels heavy—a reminder that if I could walk through this fire and survive, then I can face anything.

This is not about blame. It’s about truth, healing, and finding strength in the darkest corners of my journey.​

--
Almost four years ago—after taking a two-year break from ZoZo—I logged back in.

I wasn’t in a great place mentally.

I had heard a rumor about the passing of a user who had once meant a lot to me. I was grieving, confused, and just trying to make sense of things.

That’s when a random user dropped a simple “hello” on my wall.

I ignored it. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

But later, I felt guilty for brushing it off. So I went to his private chat and messaged him:
“Sorry.”
He replied:
“It’s okay.”

The next day, I saw him online again.

I don’t know why, but something nudged me to continue the conversation. So I messaged him again.

My first words?
“Hello, I’m married… just saying, before we start talking.”
He replied:
“I’m married too… but we can still be friends.”

And just like that, a new chapter began.

— light, warm, and full of effortless connection.
We talked about everything: food, fitness, pets, gardening, daily routines, and random life stories.
We grew comfortable with each other, slowly opening up about our personal struggles.
There were no judgments, no expectations, no demands.

It became a safe space I didn’t even know I was longing for.

That phase was beautiful.
Just honest conversations.
Just connection.
Just presence.

It felt like a honeymoon phase

And then one day, out of the blue, I received a message from him:

*I don’t feel we should continue this any further ..I feel it’s best for both of us to stop here* .

Goodbye.”

Continued ....

I’m not here to seek sympathy, attention, or validation.
I’m sharing my story because writing it down helps me process what I went through, and maybe, it might help someone else who has felt the same confusion and pain.

This isn’t easy for me to put into words—it takes courage to revisit memories that once broke me. But I also know that silence only adds to the weight we carry.

I want this thread to be a place I can return to whenever life feels heavy—a reminder that if I could walk through this fire and survive, then I can face anything.

This is not about blame. It’s about truth, healing, and finding strength in the darkest corners of my journey.

This is a strong opening that sets up an emotional and personal journey.

You’ve created a powerful, intimate atmosphere that invites the reader to connect with your pain, healing, and ultimate resilience.

This will easily pull readers into the rest of the story.

 

[sweetie Chowdary]

I’m not here to seek sympathy, attention, or validation.
I’m sharing my story because writing it down helps me process what I went through, and maybe, it might help someone else who has felt the same confusion and pain.

This isn’t easy for me to put into words—it takes courage to revisit memories that once broke me. But I also know that silence only adds to the weight we carry.

I want this thread to be a place I can return to whenever life feels heavy—a reminder that if I could walk through this fire and survive, then I can face anything.

This is not about blame. It’s about truth, healing, and finding strength in the darkest corners of my journey.​

--
Almost four years ago—after taking a two-year break from ZoZo—I logged back in.

I wasn’t in a great place mentally.

I had heard a rumor about the passing of a user who had once meant a lot to me. I was grieving, confused, and just trying to make sense of things.

That’s when a random user dropped a simple “hello” on my wall.

I ignored it. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

But later, I felt guilty for brushing it off. So I went to his private chat and messaged him:
“Sorry.”
He replied:
“It’s okay.”

The next day, I saw him online again.

I don’t know why, but something nudged me to continue the conversation. So I messaged him again.

My first words?
“Hello, I’m married… just saying, before we start talking.”
He replied:
“I’m married too… but we can still be friends.”

And just like that, a new chapter began.

— light, warm, and full of effortless connection.
We talked about everything: food, fitness, pets, gardening, daily routines, and random life stories.
We grew comfortable with each other, slowly opening up about our personal struggles.
There were no judgments, no expectations, no demands.

It became a safe space I didn’t even know I was longing for.

That phase was beautiful.
Just honest conversations.
Just connection.
Just presence.

It felt like a honeymoon phase

And then one day, out of the blue, I received a message from him:

*I don’t feel we should continue this any further ..I feel it’s best for both of us to stop here* .

Goodbye.”

Continued ....

I really felt every word you shared. It’s not easy to open up about something so personal, but you’ve expressed it beautifully. Sometimes the most unexpected connections leave the deepest marks, even if they don’t last forever.

Stay strong—you’ve already proven that you can walk through fire and still carry light within you.