Finally, his hand slipped from mine leaving me back in the depths of despair wondering what I did wrong.
not because it was the right thing to do, but just that holding on seemed scarier.
It was only exacerbating the pain a little more with time but I kept saying,
The way it feels when you tell yourself, "Maybe it'll feel better tomorrow."
After a while, I just got tired—tired of waiting, tired of holding the heartache inside.
I didn’t heal all at once.
I cried.
I felt empty. I felt lost.
However, little by little and even probably without knowing it, the pain became more bearable.
And that’s when I realized—
some things need to end,
so healing can truly begin.
🤍