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“I used to make long speeches to you after you left. I used to talk to you all the time, even though I was alone. I walked around for months talking to you. Now I don't know what to say. It was easier when I just imagined you. I even imagined you talking back to me. We'd have long conversations, the two of us. It was almost like you were there. I could hear you, I could see you, smell you. I could hear your voice. Sometimes your voice would wake me up. It would wake me up in the middle of the night, just like you were in the room with me. Then... it slowly faded. I couldn't picture you anymore. I tried to talk out loud to you like I used to, but there was nothing there. I couldn't hear you. Then... I just gave it up. Everything stopped. You just... disappeared. And now I'm working here. I hear your voice all the time. Every man has your voice.”
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May 29, 2025

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Lady, Something hit me when I saw you for the first time. You were vibrant, sparkling, full of life. Wearing a bright t-shirt with a pez dispenser on it. We chatted, I said I liked your shirt. There was a lot I liked about you in that moment, though I only mentioned the shirt. A friendship formed. I wondered if maybe it was going to be more than that—something in your marrow spoke to my marrow—but I also knew you were out of my league, so I didn't dare hope it and didn't dare pursue it. And somehow I stumbled into a relationship with someone else. We weren't a great fit for each other, but once it started I felt obligated to keep on with it. One day you and I went for a walk and you told me you thought something had been stirring between us and now you were confused because I was dating this other girl. I didn't know what to say. By then it seemed too late. The wheels were already in motion in the other direction. We said good-bye and parted ways—school ended for the year and I transferred out. Later that year I encountered you again: but this time in a dream. We hadn't seen each other for months. Things were going okay with the someone else: actually, I was barely surviving it. But in my loneliness I stuck with her. I wasn't myself enough to be able to end the relationship. I didn't know how to reclaim me and just kept going through the motions. But then you came to me that one night as I slept. In my dream I was in my childhood hometown, walking down the street. I saw you and you were with a man. You introduced us: "This is my husband," you said about him. When you said that, I broke down on the spot. Literally, crumpled onto the street. And the pain in the dream sliced so hard into the real world that I woke up crying. Twenty-two years old, alone in the dark, tears streaming down my my face. My heart breaking. Sobbing. Before that, I'd hidden the thought of you. Tried not to think about you: to do so was just too dangerous. But that dream planted you back in my heart. You've been there ever since.
Mar 17, 2025
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there's no standard treatment for a broken heart. i sigh quietly to myself, thinking i’ll actually find an answer on how to heal a broken heart on google it all began five years ago, when i finally started spending time with him—the boy who seemed to shine a little brighter than the rest. he was the kindest, the prettiest, the one who made my heart feel lighter just by existing. and he wanted to be my friend. how could i not fall? kept the friendship up for a couple of years and my crush for him grew even stronger. sometimes he would come up in my dreams and then i would try to summon fate itself—manifesting, wishing, aching for him to love me back. because, as every girl knows, there is always a phase where we believe the universe listens. and so, i rinsed and repeated, hoping one day, he would look at me the way I looked at him when we messaged or meet up, he felt like my twin flame. a connection so deep, so natural, that i convinced myself he must feel it too. he understood me, and i understood him but i never felt that he liked me as much as i liked him. and then, it ended—not with a dramatic farewell, not with a grand confession, but with silence. I ruined it in my own quiet way: fading out, withdrawing, blocking him, letting the messages go unanswered. I stopped reaching out, and so did he. it was as if we had been a story left unfinished, pages ripped from the book before the final chapter could be written it has been four months since we last spoke. and now, he has a girlfriend. may I add—throughout our years of friendship, he never had one. situationships, yes, but never something real. yet, here she is. not me. the day I found out, it struck me in a way I hadn’t expected. I had let him slip from my thoughts, let weeks pass without missing him—until I saw what I had once longed for, in the hands of someone else. I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto the dream until it shattered before me. now, my mind drifts to what could have been. I picture myself in her place, feel the ghost of a life that was never mine. would he have loved me, if I had held on? if I had tried? was I ever good enough for him? wasn’t I pretty enough for him…? why… her… not… me…? time is meant to heal. i know this. but this wound runs deep. losing someone you once felt connected to in the deepest corners of your soul is a quiet kind of grief, the kind that doesn’t announce itself loudly but lingers in the spaces between thoughts. my heart feels heavy, my soul even heavier but today, i miss him more than usually. i’ve fallen to deep, so now every time i think of him, i will miss him deeply.
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Loneliness prevails! I would much rather live purely in solitude for ever and ever than waste another precious second in the presence of someone who has little skin in the game of knowing me or seeing me. Hearing me! I wonder why you keep me around if all your hearts desire is to hear the sound of your own voice. It makes no difference if it’s me or anyone for that matter. For all you know or even care I am merely an ottoman for you to rest your feet on, or a coffee table meant simply to pedestal your various notebook scrawlings and half-read books. I am a file cabinet. I have it here, dated, what you Thought and what you felt about work, or about your friends. ask me, I have it all. And I loved it. I loved knowing you. I wanted to. I investigated and interrogated. I poured over it all with great curiosity, praying for all my red threads to weave a tapestry of you. but I can’t remember the last time you asked me something about myself. When the opportunity arises, and god forbid, I Take it, you can barely hold your breath. Its like a shark sensing blood. You just can’t wait to talk talk talk talk talk. But hey, it’s your life, and baby, I’m just living in it.
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