I don’t really know how to begin, but my heart feels like it’s in pieces. Everything feels a little heavier today. It's strange how silence can be so loud—how the absence of one person can echo through every part of your life.

I keep replaying the last conversation, looking for something I missed. A sign. A clue. Something that could explain why it ended, why it had to hurt this much. I knew love could break you, but I didn't expect it to feel so hollow—like a part of me walked away with them.

There are moments when I think I’m okay. I’ll laugh at something, or get distracted, and then suddenly, it hits me again—the realization that they’re not coming back. That the future I pictured so vividly is now just an empty daydream. It makes me question if any of it was real or if I was just holding onto an illusion.

But even in this pain, I know healing isn’t linear. I’ll let myself feel it all—the ache, the confusion, the longing—because I know pretending it doesn’t hurt will only make it last longer. They meant something to me. A lot, actually. And losing that deserves mourning.

I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know when it’ll stop hurting. But I’m here, still breathing, still writing, still trying. That has to count for something.