Letters I'll Never Send

The funny part is, I’m still talking to him.

Not because we’re trying to get back together. Not because we’re secretly in love. We’re connected professionally, blah blah blah.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Maybe the truth is that a small part of me still wants to be connected to him. Not because I don’t see him for who he is anymore. I do.

I know he doesn’t care.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Because there was a time when he treated me like a princess. There was a time when I felt chosen. Important. Loved.

So now I’m left wondering:

What the hell happened?

Some days I open my phone, see his profile, stalk him for a few minutes, type a message, delete it, and then repeat the entire process again.

It’s exhausting.

The strangest part is that I don’t even know what I want anymore.

I don’t want him.

But I want him to want me.

And then I tell myself I don’t care.

And then I care again.

And then I remember all the reasons we didn’t work.

And then I miss him anyway.

It’s like my brain and my heart are in a never-ending custody battle.

Maybe this is what heartbreak really looks like.

Not dramatic movie scenes.

Not crying on the floor every day.

Just a thousand conflicting emotions existing at the same time.

One thing I’ve learned lately is that I don’t want to repress my feelings anymore.

I’m tired of acting like I’m okay when I’m not.

So if I need to cry, I’ll cry.

I’ll get up, go to work, answer emails, make dinner, watch Netflix, and then cry if I need to.

Because that’s human.

That’s what healing looks like.

Not pretending you’re over it.

Not forcing yourself to move on.

Just feeling it until one day it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore.

Trust me, I’ve tried all the shortcuts.

I’ve prayed to God for the strength to move on.

I’ve downloaded Bumble.

I’ve downloaded Hinge.

I’ve swiped through more profiles than I care to admit.

And yet I don’t actually want to talk to any of them.

Not because I can’t.

I just don’t.

So instead I watch another series, make another cup of coffee, and convince myself tomorrow will feel a little lighter.

And honestly?

I think that’s okay.

Wounds take time to heal.

You can’t rush them.

You can’t negotiate with them.

You just have to let them run their course.

So if you’re reading this while missing someone you know you shouldn’t miss, here’s my advice:

Cry.

Cry until you’re tired of crying.

Work for two days.

Cry again.

Then cry again if you need to.

Because one day, without even realizing it, you’ll go an entire day without thinking about them.

And then a week.

And then a month.

I know this because I’ve survived other heartbreaks before.

Friendship breakups.

People leaving.

Versions of myself I’ve had to let go of.

And somehow I made it through all of them.

We’ll make it through this one too.

At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe today.