Sentimental Bullshit

Call it sentimental bullshit—

that soft, overused language

people reach for

when something real

makes them uncomfortable.

Love.

Hope.

Healing.

Words that get dismissed

the second they stop being easy.

Like feeling deeply

is something to outgrow.

Like caring too much

is a flaw

instead of a risk.

I’ve tried

to strip it all down—

make myself quieter,

less affected,

less invested

in things that don’t stay.

Told myself

it’s better this way.

Cleaner.

Safer.

No expectations.

No disappointment.

No reason to feel

anything at all.

But numb

isn’t the same

as strong.

And pretending

none of it mattered

doesn’t make it true.

Because even now—

under all the doubt,

all the cynicism,

all the ways I’ve tried

to harden—

there’s still something there.

Something stubborn.

Something that refuses

to turn into nothing

just because it got hurt.

So call it

sentimental bullshit

if you need to.

I know what it is.

It’s the part of me

that still believes

something real

is worth feeling—

even if it doesn’t last.