Heartbreak
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Someone I met recently asked me what love meant to me. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Of course I know what love is. I just didn’t know how to put it into words. For the last few months I have made myself fairly numb to anything that makes me rely on others, and…
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I have previously talked about how I want to be intentional in dating. How I want to care for someone and have someone care for me. I still want that. I don’t think the wanting ever stopped, only my ability to act on it did. Since my last breakup, I have been on a few…
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How does one even talk about their insecurities. I’ve been sitting with that question rather than the insecurity itself. Not sure if it deserves the word, or if it’s something smaller: just a thing I wish I was better at. Maybe writing it down is how I find out which one it is. I met…
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If I had to live my life again, I would make most of the same decisions. There might be a few minor tweaks, but the larger choices would stay. They shaped me into the person I am, and I am proud of that person. Still, there are experiences that leave me feeling I missed a…
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I am doing well. Quietly. Steadily. There is acceptance. There is a thin thread of hope. There is adventure of a sort. The path that brought me here was not clean. I cut the relationships that kept the grief looping and refused to let me leave. That part is finished. To stay in motion I…
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I have gone through a volatile time in the last few months. And I accepted the end. And I have to live in the present. I won’t romanticise the pain. I will romanticise the acceptance. Another take on snow patrols classic: If I lay hereIf i just lay hereYou will not lie with meYou will…
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I wrote one final message to her. Not out of desperation, not to win her back, not even because the silence had become too loud. I wrote it because some things need to be said — not for the other person, but so your own heart can finally exhale. The message was sent months ago,…
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There is a bench next to a pond I often sit at before ending my day. It’s quiet, secluded, peaceful. Sometimes I wish you were next to me. Sometimes I think about us. Sometimes it feels empty. And sometimes the same question returns like an old friend who never learned to leave: Do I miss…
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A quiet lament written in the immediate aftermath of letting go – when the world still carries your warmth, but it is no longer for me.
