They say time is the great architect of healing, that it softens every edge and buries every ache beneath enough seasons. Yet time has been strangely unfaithful to me. With every passing day, the distance between us grows, but so does the gravity with which my soul is pulled toward you. The months have not diluted you. They have distilled you into something impossibly inescapable.
I live as though bound by invisible chains, forged from memories no one else can see.
The world urges me to leave, to move on, as though the heart obeys the same logic as the feet. But how does one walk away when the person they are fleeing has become the only destination they have ever known? Every road I take, every dream I dare to build, every version of my future somehow bends itself back toward you. I resent that.
I resent that I have unknowingly built an entire universe whose sun is someone who no longer shines for me.
I feel like a marionette suspended by threads I cannot sever, rehearsing an endless performance in the desperate hope that somewhere, somehow, your eyes might still find the stage. The cruelest part is knowing that the audience I perform for has long since left the theatre.
How effortlessly you disappeared. How gracefully you erased me from your story. Did it not wound you? Did my absence settle so gently upon your life that you scarcely noticed its weight? The space I once occupied within you has, I imagine, been reclaimed by quieter things, shrinking with every sunrise until it became indistinguishable from emptiness. Yet within me, you remain colossal. You eclipse every horizon.
Tell me, how does one forget the person who has become the architecture of every thought? I cannot remember what my mind sounded like before it echoed with your name.
You inhabit every silence, every ordinary moment, every fleeting thought. You are most present precisely when you are nowhere to be found.
Why is forgetting so effortless for you, and so impossible for me? Why does your freedom arrive so naturally while mine remains forever postponed?
Sometimes I wish I had never crossed paths with you at all. I ache to remember the person I was before my life became divided into a before and an after. Before every joy carried the shadow of your absence. Before every decision became an unconscious attempt to find my way back to someone who had already chosen another direction. I long to remember what it felt like to awaken without grief waiting faithfully beside me.
More than anything, I miss the simple miracle of feeling ordinary.
I want my life back. I want sovereignty over my own heart again. It terrifies me that the climate of my entire emotional world is dictated by someone who no longer thinks of me when morning comes.
You have become indifferent where I remained devoted, glacial where I remained aflame. Perhaps the deepest wound is not that you stopped loving me, but that I surrendered so much of myself to someone capable of carrying my absence with such unbearable ease.
It fills me with a quiet, consuming fury to know that someone so unmoved by my existence still possesses the power to move every part of mine.
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