Dear Diary, who else would spend their time in diaries, if not people wounded by love?
Where else can we pour out our emotions, when in real life we have to pretend that everything is fine… even though it isn’t fine at all.
I don’t want to move in another house— but I know I’ll have to. In this house, I feel like I’m losing my mind…
So… Let’s begin my whining.
1. Why is it so much easier for me to ask friends to bring me medicine or groceries
(and even then, it’s usually them who insist on helping), than to say the real thing, that I’m falling apart inside, that I need help just to hold myself together?
That it’s so lonely in here that the emptiness feels like an echo chamber in my chest…
I never show them how heavy it really is, how much I want to scream my pain across the whole city, until the sky cracks open…
Sometimes it feels like I want to tear down everything that reminds me of this hurt, to smash every trace of it, to rip my heart out and shatter it into dust, to grind it into nothing — just so it would finally stop hurting…
Why is it easier to confess it here than to tell the people who are closest to me that I’m not okay and I need support?
2. I’m fighting with myself — fighting the desperate urge to write to him, and at the same time I know it won’t change anything. It won’t fix the situation.
It will only reopen the wound and make everything worse.
It feels like I’m split in two.
One part of me longs for a quiet, grounded life — to finally choose stability, to get married, to have a child, to build a home where love is steady and present, where I don’t have to beg for someone’s attention or live in constant longing.
And the other part…
the other part still reaches for him — wants to love him fully, fiercely, unquestioningly, to belong to him and wait for him, to exist in the small fragments of time he is able to give me.
As if I’m devoted to someone who is not really here — and yet I cannot let go, even when we don’t speak… even when I know he does not stand beside me.
It feels like I am torn between the woman who wants peace, future, and life — and the woman who still cannot breathe without him.