And now I’m crying.
It’s 2 A.M., and I can’t sleep… And it’s not because I’m overwhelmed with happiness like I was just a few hours ago—no.
Now it’s the pain that keeps me awake. The kind that wraps around your chest and won’t let go.
I keep telling myself it’ll pass. Just wait a little longer, and the wave will ease, and I’ll go back to reading.
Back to distracting myself. Pretending I’m somewhere else.
The cruelest part?
Is that every time I want to hold on to the beautiful things—to the warmth, the tenderness, the sweet memories —
I have to kill them.
I have to drown them in bitterness, bury them under the worst moments, just to stop myself from hoping again.
Just to stop myself from going back.
Because if I don’t, I know what will happen—
I’ll give in.
I’ll give in to love again.
And I can’t afford that...
But the irony is… The more I try to escape it, the deeper I seem to sink.
God, why…?
Why, instead of having the person I love by my side—just being there, letting me pour all this love into him, giving him everything warm and good that lives inside me—
Why do I always have to walk through hell instead?
Why do I have to convince myself over and over again that everything is wrong?
Why do I have to destroy all the good with all the bad, just to survive?
Why does my “good”—my softness, my love, my hope—keep resurfacing like a ghost I can’t bury? And why do I always have to fight myself just to keep it locked away?
I feel so weak…
And yet, despite everything, I still catch myself dreaming—
Dreaming that he’d just hold me…
Just wrap his arms around me, and I’d forget all the pain, all the darkness I force myself to replay in my head just to stay strong, just to hide what I truly feel.
God, I miss him so much…
But he’ll never hold me when I need it most.
So… F@ck my feelings, seriously. I barely got any sleep, and now I have to drag myself to the gym and then dive into work. If there’s one thing that kept me sane — it’s that I spent the night reading. At least that brought me some peace.
F@ck love, f@ck these thoughts, f@ck his choice — f@ck me for all this suffering. Honestly, I’m just hurting for nothing. Wasting my time… Why am I living without sex? Just because I don’t want to... I wanted him, but otherwise, I don’t want anyone. I’ll push myself to take that step — to finally “cheat” on someone who was never even mine.
It’s easier for girls to fake desire, isn’t it? But my mind is stuck replaying scenes of our intimacy. My body only remembers the last time — our closeness. I need to erase it all, to hell with everything. Just wipe it clean. Just like he did — like he erased me without a second thought.
God… I hate that a man can make me feel like I have to tear myself apart like this. What a fool I am — why do I even want him? For what? What’s the point? Where’s the logic in any of this? Stupid love. It’s complete madness… I hate it. F@cking emotional rollercoaster.
Brilliant… The day doesn’t start with coffee, but with stupid questions and even dumber decisions. F@ck him, f@ck these cheaters. Lowering myself to their level… No, ffs! That’s it. I’m done.