Dear Diary,
I want to apologize to this diary for writing so much today. It’s just… there was a lot. A lot of heaviness. Here has to be a better way to let emotions out. But (F@ck f@ck f@ck). Sry… Just trying to hide this monologue.
Today, through a mix of random circumstances and maybe even intentional choices later in the evening I noticed strange things. And certain people. Honestly, I don’t want to notice.
I don’t want to overthink, to read between the lines, to make stories out of silence.
I just want to live in another neighborhood.
Somewhere I can move freely. Somewhere I can exist without the chance of seeing, noticing, spiraling.
I don’t want to feel like a stalker in my own life
I must be sick… Because for all these months, I haven’t looked for any meetings. Especially not with her. And yet, something in me still circles back—like a wound that keeps reopening, like a ghost I never really tried to exorcise.
But on the other hand… Here, I can be honest. Raw. No masks. No need to explain or edit my feelings to make them more palatable.
And in that honesty, I feel something loosening - like the weight on my chest starts to lift, even if just a little.
Yesterday, I truly felt happy. And I knew—sooner or later—the wave of memories would follow.
And that’s okay. We’re human, after all.
Feelings come and go, like tides. Sometimes joy, sometimes sorrow, sometimes both at once. The important thing is to live with it—to carry it like something familiar, something ordinary. Not a burden, but a part of being alive.
Maybe it’s just PMS. And lack of sleep. Probably. And the exhaustion—I’m taking on too much, just to keep myself from thinking. But the thoughts always find a way back, crashing over me like a storm.
Still… I’m glad we’re not talking right now. Because I know myself—I could’ve poured all this negativity onto him, and then I’d be left with regret.
And I don’t want him carrying that.
I don’t want him to even know.
I don’t want to lose him…
Not as a friend. Not as someone I share stories and thoughts with on that reading site.
I don’t want my feelings, my memories, to ruin something that meant more than just emotions.
I don’t want to lose the little space we had—
where it was just words, ideas, quiet connection.
He’s probably struggling in his own way, too.
And really… why should I pour my pain onto him?
That’s their life now. Not mine.
And in a strange, quiet way, I’m grateful—
grateful that I have a place to release these emotions, these “childlike” waves of feeling that still rise in me sometimes.
At least here, they don’t hurt anyone.
At least here, I can let them go without expecting anything in return…
And I don’t want to “accidentally” run into anyone anymore. Not like I did that evening.
It felt too intentional… and now, I just feel ashamed of those emotions. Like I betrayed myself.
And now… I’ll get up from this bench and go home. I won’t look around. I don’t want to accidentally see. But walking in circles just to avoid it—that’s foolish too.
I need to make some changes to the project.
So I’m turning the audiobook back on—
and slipping into it, letting it carry me all the way home.
I feel sorry for my feelings…
Still… I’m glad he didn’t see it. I’m glad he wasn’t there to witness the mess I became, the tears, the spirals, the moments I lost myself. Maybe that’s the one kindness I was able to give—to protect him from the chaos he unknowingly left behind.
He can move on peacefully. And that’s what matters most.
Even if I’m still gathering my pieces, even if part of me still aches—knowing he’s okay… makes it all a little easier to bear. May his days be calm, his heart at peace. And may their love be the kind that feels like home…
That’s it. I’m done. No more digging through all of this. I’m sitting down to work now—it’s time to pull myself together. Tomorrow is full of things to do. And I hope…tomorrow won’t carry these heavy thoughts with it.
If someone does end up reading this-because sometimes you do leave comments-please… don’t say anything.
I just wanted to be honest.
That’s all.
The swearing was meant to hide the post from the main feed, but I know someone could still stumble across my page and see it.
I just don’t want anyone to read it by accident— and even more, I don’t want anyone to respond.
I appreciate that you visit and read, that you support me…
But this is not that kind of monologue.