Pain...

It still hasn’t passed.

No matter how often I tell myself I’m fine,

there is a part of me still stuck there... hands reaching backward, heart caught in a love that slipped away.

It was real.

God, it was real.

So strong it felt eternal and yet so fragile it shattered the moment I needed it most.

I gave everything.

I loved without armor, without hesitation, like someone who truly believed forever was promised.

And then... nothing.

An emptiness so sudden it stole the air from my lungs.

A silence so loud it followed me everywhere.

The world kept moving, laughing, living and I stayed frozen in the place where we ended.

I’m not ashamed to admit it still hurts.

That some mornings I wake up aching for something.

I can’t even name anymore.

I don’t know if I miss what we were, or what I believed we could become.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m grieving a person... or a dream I built and lived inside for too long.

What frightens me most now is not the loss but what it left behind.

I’m afraid of feeling again.

Afraid of opening my chest and finding there isn’t enough left to survive another fall.

So I closed myself off.

I learned how to be careful.

Not because I stopped wanting love... but because I don’t know if my heart knows how to break again and still keep beating.

They say time heals everything.

They never talk about the other wound... the fear.

The time it takes to trust again.

To give yourself fully without counting the ways you might lose.

Maybe one day someone will soften this fear or maybe I’ll slowly learn to believe in myself again.

But not yet.

Not now.

For now, I’m still here.

Still carrying it.

Still feeling it.

It still hasn’t passed.