Hi everyone,
It's actually been a while since it happened but I just stepped out of a long-term relationship. Nineteen months may not sound like much to some, but for me, it was the longest chapter I’ve ever written with someone else. The ending came fast, but not clean. The kind that leaves echoes of what ifs in quiet moments, pulling you back into loops of memory and maybes.
Letting go wasn’t sudden, it was a slow unraveling. It took me time, tears, and huge acts of courage I didn’t know I had. But perhaps the strangest thing is the guilt, not over the breakup itself, but over the peace that followed. The stillness. The space I now have to choose myself. To breathe. To enjoy my own company.
And sometimes, that guilt whispers louder than the grief ever did.
I'm probably sharing this now because this is a huge factor why I feel detached about writing for now. I'm still writing, don't worry! But little by little. I hope I can get back on track soon, because I really have plans for my story. Bringing it to life is the challenge at the moment. But I will do my best!
