Lately, I’ve been feeling this deep, aching kind of loneliness—the kind that doesn’t go away, even when the sun is shining. The man I love… it doesn’t work between us. We’re not good for each other. We fight. We tear each other down. It’s toxic. And yet, I still love him. That’s the hardest part. Knowing someone isn’t right for you, but still wanting them with everything inside you.
So I’m trying to choose myself now. I’ve been reading more. Learning new skills. Cooking at home. Getting outside for some sunshine. Moving my body. I’m doing all the things that are supposed to help me heal, and maybe they are—slowly. But the truth is, I’m still alone. I pass strangers on the street, I hear laughter in cafés, and I realize how separate I feel from all of it. I wonder: am I healing, or just isolating myself?
Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing this right. What does "healing" even look like? How do you know when you’ve crossed some invisible line from surviving to actually living again?
There are moments when my heart aches for him. My mind gets loud—screaming things like, “Just call him”, “You love him”, and for a second, I want to give in. But I don’t. I bury the thought. I swallow the ache. I jump to another distraction. Some days, the dam breaks and I cry—but only for a moment now. The moments are shorter than they used to be. That has to count for something, right?
I guess what I’m trying to say is: I want to be happy. Truly, deeply, peacefully happy. Not in a fleeting, surface-level way. I want to be free—from the past, from the longing, from the chaos. I’m not there yet, but I’m trying. And maybe that’s enough for today.