The world ended

I don’t know how to say this without sounding broken, but I am. I’m broken. And I don’t know how to fix it.

The pain doesn’t fade. It grows. It spreads. It’s in my chest, clawing at my ribs like a wild animal. It’s in my hands, trembling and useless. It’s in the back of my throat, choking me every time I try to speak your name.

I don’t know how to do this without you. You were the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, the pulse in my chest. And now? Now I’m just a hollow shell, a corpse that hasn’t realized it’s dead yet.

I keep replaying it in my head—the moment you walked away. The way your eyes looked when you said goodbye. The way your voice cracked when you said it was over. The way my heart shattered when you turned and left.

It’s been months. Months of this. Months of pretending I’m okay. Months of smiling when I want to scream. Months of lying to myself, saying I’ll get over it, saying I’ll move on. But I haven’t. I can’t.

I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. To feel their absence like a physical weight, pressing down on my chest until I can’t breathe. To wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, because I dreamed you were still here—only to realize you’re not.

I want to go back. Back to those beautiful days. Back to those nights where your voice was the only thing that could lull me to sleep. Now I need help to sleep. I need help to live. I’m dying.

I used to hear stories about people dying of broken hearts. I never believed them. But now? Now I’m living those stories. Now I’m the tragic character in some old romance novel, begging for a happy ending that will never come.

I’m writing this because I don’t know who else to tell. I don’t know who will listen. I don’t know if anyone can hear me. But if you’re reading this, please—just tell me it gets better. Tell me the ache will fade. Tell me I’ll learn to live without you.

Because right now, I can’t.

Right now, I’m barely holding on.

Right now, I’m just a ghost, haunting the life we used to have. I walk through the days like they’re someone else’s, like I’m watching from the outside. The sun still rises, but it doesn’t warm me. The rain still falls, but it doesn’t cleanse me. The world keeps spinning, but I’m stuck here, in the moment you walked away.

I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to stop loving you.

So I’m writing this. Not because I think it will change anything. Not because I think you’ll read it. But because I need someone—anyone—to know how much it hurts. To know that I’m still here, still fighting, still trying to find a way out of this.

But I can’t do it alone.

I can’t keep going like this.

Every step feels like a day I don’t want to live.

Every breath feels like a betrayal.

I was wrong.

I was there.

I am here.

And I’m begging for help.