Pain

There are some heartbreaks that don’t just hurt the heart. They enter your thoughts, your body, your breathing, your sleep. They stay in your voice when you speak and in your silence when you don’t. I never knew a person could feel this much pain and still continue living every day as if nothing happened.

Sometimes it feels like I am neither alive properly nor able to die from this grief. Just existing somewhere in between.

People think blocking someone is easy. As if pressing one button suddenly removes feelings, memories, attachment, longing. But what they don’t understand is that sometimes you block someone not because the love ended… but because you were slowly losing yourself. And maybe if I hadn’t done it, I would have broken even more. Emotionally, mentally, completely.

Still, the pain remains. Every day passes strangely. Every morning begins with heaviness and every night ends with thoughts I cannot escape. Crowds do not help. Work does not help. Conversations do not help. Even in a room full of people, my eyes keep searching for only one face.

It has become difficult to be alone. Difficult to stay distracted. Difficult to breathe normally around memories. Some evenings, especially when it rains, your name returns so strongly inside me that it physically hurts.

And I sit there wondering: What if I see you once? Will this ache become lighter? Will my heart calm down for a moment?

But then fear immediately follows. Because what if seeing you pulls me back into the same emotional loop I escaped from with so much difficulty? What if one look from you destroys all the strength I gathered to stay away? That is the cruelest part of love sometimes. The same person who feels like peace can also become the reason for unbearable pain.

I keep wondering if you are okay. If you are disturbed. If something else is bothering you. If you miss me even a little. And in worrying about you, I forgot to ask myself: How am I? What has happened to my heart? Why am I carrying this pain alone every day?

Maybe this is what love does. Slowly, silently, we stop choosing ourselves. We become so emotionally attached to another person that somewhere in the process, we lose our own center. I was always afraid of losing myself. And now when I look back, I realize maybe I already have.

Sometimes I replay everything in my head. The conversations. The closeness. The attachment. The moments that felt so real. And then I wonder if making that choice was a mistake. Maybe what once felt like love has now turned into punishment. Because living with this emotional weight is exhausting. The heart gets tired. The mind gets tired. And eventually, even the soul becomes quiet.

There are days when I want nothing more than to meet you once. To hug you tightly and cry without hiding anything. To tell you how this one month without speaking to you has passed. How every day felt stretched. How every night felt endless. How difficult it became to act normal while falling apart internally.

There are so many unsaid things living inside me. Memories frozen in places where time stopped. Words that only my eyes can explain.

Sometimes I imagine seeing you suddenly. Maybe both of us would become silent. Maybe we would break down. Maybe all the pain we buried would finally come out. Because some connections are strange. You understand everything logically, and still your heart refuses to move on. You know what hurts you, and still you miss it. You know distance is necessary, and still every part of you wants closeness. That contradiction is unbearable.

And yet, despite everything, I think the hardest part is this: I miss you even while trying to heal from you.

People say time heals. Right now, it is difficult to believe that completely. But maybe time does not erase love. Maybe it simply teaches us how to carry it without destroying ourselves. Maybe healing is not forgetting. Maybe healing is waking up one day and realizing the pain no longer controls every breath.

I don’t know how long that will take. I don’t know how many more nights will feel this heavy. I don’t know how many more times my eyes will search for you in crowds. But somewhere inside all this pain, there is still a small hope. That one day I will find myself again. That one day this ache will soften. That one day your memory will stop feeling like a wound.

Until then, I continue. Quietly. Carrying love and grief together inside the same heart.

And sometimes, I still wish I could go back to how things were. Sometimes I feel like calling you again, talking to you again, hearing your voice the way I used to. Because the truth is… I was happy. For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely happy. Not temporarily distracted. Not pretending. Not surviving. Actually happy.

Sometimes I think that if everything between us had continued, maybe I would have chosen a completely different path in life. A life where emotionally, mentally, physically… I would have felt deeply fulfilled. I know I would have.

But maybe that same love would have broken me too. Because I know myself. I would have become impossibly attached to you. Not because I expected perfection from you, but because my heart would have started depending on your presence. And slowly, I would have needed you in ways I could never fully admit.

And maybe you still would not have chosen me completely. Maybe you still would not have made time for me the way I silently needed. Maybe I would have kept loving harder while learning how little space I truly occupied in your life. And that would have hurt even more. Far more than this distance does.

So now I stand between two griefs: The pain of losing you… and the pain of imagining what we could have been. And somehow, both ache equally.