Breakups don’t make sense to me. Am I just supposed to feel nothing now? To erase all the time we spent together, the memories etched into my mind, the quiet promises whispered in the dark? Am I meant to set it all on fire, pretending you don’t cross my thoughts with every breath I take? As if love is just a fleeting phase, something that vanishes as easily as it began. Am I supposed to suddenly hate you, to force down the feelings still rooted in my chest? Forget the warmth of your hand in mine, our fingers laced together against the chill of the world? What about the dreams we built, reshaping our futures to fit one another? Is “moving on” some sort of magic trick? Or is it a spell no one’s ever taught me, some dark art that hides the ache beneath tangled overgrowth? Do the feelings ever really die, or do they just lie buried, choked out by weeds where flowers once bloomed? The silence left in their place is deafening, and I can’t understand how hearts can simply unravel. How love, once so vivid, can close its eyes to everything it defined. How am I supposed to walk away when the echoes of what we had still call me back?

The red string, a thread so delicate it escapes even the keenest eye, yet so unyielding it binds two souls as one. It stretches through time and space, weaving effortlessly through obstacles in its path. Silent and unseen, it guides a journey meant to be traveled, connecting hearts despite life’s chaos. No matter how far it’s pulled or how tangled it becomes, it never breaks. I’ve brought scissors to mine, once even a knife, tired of the chase, weary from the search. But the thread remains intact, defying every attempt to sever it. It holds fast, enduring the weight of dreams whispered into the night and the long sighs of defeat. Even as my hands tremble, losing their grip, the string stays, steadfast, showing me the way. It unravels knots tied by false connections and leads me back to the path I strayed from. It holds the hands that are destined to find one another, unseen but unbreakable. A love so patient, it waits for its moment to be discovered. So I’ll trust its pull, follow its silent call, and hope it’s leading me to you. Are our red strings intertwined? Do they lead us to each other?

Does your heart still feel like it did in August, a time when every word trembled with the weight of goodbye? When your tears fell like a relentless storm, and every poem you wrote ached with the words you couldn’t speak aloud. Do those words still linger in your heart, etched deeply, or have they begun to fade? Do you still hold me close in your thoughts, or has your grip loosened, like sand slipping through your fingers? Do you still ache for me in my absence, the way you once did when the thought of being apart was unbearable? I’ve read every poem you poured your heart into, each one pulsing with a love so fierce it refused to let go, even when the cracks in our love threatened to break us. Even goodbyes felt incomplete, as if our bond couldn’t truly be severed. But now, I’m left wondering, has time softened your love? Does the thought of me still burn as brightly in your chest, or have the flames dimmed, the fire fading to embers? Has your love for me grown or faltered? I find myself asking: Does your heart still feel like it did in August? Do you still love me with that same depth and intensity?

Merry Christmas, or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to say. But it doesn’t feel merry anymore, does it? Maybe it’s something that comes with age, or maybe it’s karma finally catching up to me, but I don’t want to be here right now. I plaster on a smile, do my best to get through the day, but inside, I’m lost. I disassociate just to keep the tears at bay. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to shout to the world that this isn’t fair. I don’t visit my family much anymore, it shouldn’t feel like such a burden. But it does, like being dragged to a never-ending doctor’s appointment as a kid. Every visit feels like a ticking time bomb, emotions spiraling out of control. The air grows heavy, words sharper than knives, cutting deep and leaving wounds that never fully heal. Even in the quieter moments, the tension lingers, never fully gone. I miss being a child, back when life was simple, back when the weight of expectations didn’t feel so crushing. Back when love didn’t feel so conditional, so complicated. I’ve always dreamed of having a family of my own, but now I wonder if I ever could. What if it just turns into this? A cycle of toxicity, repeating endlessly. I want to love and be loved, but this, this isn’t love anymore. Happy holidays, or maybe, not so happy after all.

Who am I? I feel adrift, lost in an endless sea of nothingness. This doesn’t feel like my family anymore. They no longer need me, life has carried them forward, leaving me behind. I feel stranded, unmoored, just a distant fragment of their past. The relentless tide of time has swept them away, while I remain frozen, anchored in place. This house, once alive with laughter and warmth, now echoes with memories of a life I barely recognize. Each of them has moved on, their chapters turning, their stories evolving. I don’t blame them for leaving me behind, but the emptiness weighs heavy. It’s been so long since this truly felt like a family. Now, all that’s left are shadows, slipping just beyond my grasp. Am I a relic? A fading remnant of what used to be? I reach for them, but the distance between us is insurmountable, a chasm carved by time, widening too quickly for me to cross. While their lives tick forward, mine stands still, stagnant and silent. I ache for purpose, for a place to belong. A void stretches within me, yearning to be filled. Perhaps one day I’ll find the shore I’ve been seeking, a place to rebuild, to heal, to feel whole again. For now, I watch as they drift further away, my soul burning in place like a solitary beacon. Through this endless night, I remain, lost yet hopeful, waiting to one day be found.

To truly love someone is so much more than uttering three simple words. It’s playing their favorite games, even when you’re unsure about them, just to savor the joy of being together. It’s gathering what they need before they even ask, sparing them from worry. Love is holding each other close, standing firm through their darkest battles. To truly love someone is to see their flaws clearly, not ignoring their imperfections but embracing them anyway. It’s found in the smallest gestures, like memorizing their favorite order, and in the grandest, like pouring hours into creating something meaningful just for them. True love doesn’t only exist when rainbows fill the sky, it’s present in the storms, standing steadfast before the calm. It’s not just whispered in moments of ease but declared through actions when fears and struggles become real. It’s the coffee you brew early in the morning to make their day brighter. It’s the warmth of a reassuring smile when all hope feels lost. It’s in the quiet glance, the recognition of a defeated sigh, and the countless reasons to stay when every instinct urges you to leave. Love notices the cracks, the scars of battles fought, and chooses to heal together. It’s striving for new heights, fueled by the strength you find in each other. To love is to make silent sacrifices, to honor an unspoken vow. It’s the foundation of trust, the unbreakable bond that endures. True love is far more than words, it’s the actions that give those words meaning. Love isn’t just a fleeting sound; it’s the home where your heart finds peace, where two souls live in harmony. I truly love you.

Why do I feel this way? Am I crazy? Maybe I’m manipulative, just like she says. Maybe I’m so far gone that I can’t even recognize it anymore. I’d like to believe I’m not, but doesn’t everyone think that about themselves? What if I hate them so much because, deep down, I’m just like them? You point out things I do, and in my mind, I rationalize them, they make sense to me, but isn’t that exactly what a crazy person would do? I don’t want to feel this way. My thoughts are racing, tumbling over each other like a runaway train, unstoppable. What’s happening to me? Why can’t I make it stop? I shouldn’t unload this on anyone else. She doesn’t deserve it, not her, never her. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t. I swear I try to listen, I do listen, wait, what did she say again? Why am I dredging up things from the past? I tell myself it’s to prove my point, but is it? Or am I just pinning her down under the weight of it all? I wanted to make us better, to help us grow. But what if I’m not doing that? What if I’m the one dragging us both down? A faint noise catches my ear. It’s nothing, just the wind, but my mind spins, what if it’s not? What if he’s back? What if he’s here to finish what he started? It’s not fair. I tried. Didn’t I try? Maybe I should’ve tried harder, been better, when she needed me most. Now, I’m shaking, suffocating under the crushing weight of my own thoughts. Am I crazy? I feel crazy. I can’t stop this spiral. I can’t distract myself. I can’t even remember the last time my mind was still, when I could truly let go. I count the seconds, one by one, waiting for the inevitable. Why?