1 AM Thoughts on a Broken Heart

The weight of a broken heart isn’t in the breaking—  

it’s in the carrying.  

It’s in the way you wake up and choose to breathe,  

not because you want to,  

but because you’re curious.  

Curious to see how the story ends.  

Leaving now would be like walking out of a horror movie  

just as the tense music starts.  

What if the monster isn’t real?  

What if the hero survives?  

What if, against all odds, the sun rises?

I carry the pride of having been loved by you.  

Of having stood in the center of your universe,  

even if only for a moment.  

But pride is a heavy thing when it’s all you have left.  

It doesn’t keep you warm at night.  

It doesn’t fill the silence where your voice used to be.

I carry the guilt of not being enough.  

Of not being able to give you what you deserved.  

Maybe the best way to love you now  

is to hope you find someone better than me.  

Someone who won’t break promises they never meant to keep.  

Someone who will stay when I couldn’t.

Do you ever think about the odds of us?  

In this world, in this time,  

our eyes met, and for a moment,  

we were the only two people who mattered.  

We said “I love you” in unison,  

as if the universe itself had whispered the words through us.  

And now?  

Now we’re strangers again.  

Just two shadows that once overlapped,  

now stretching in opposite directions.

All those promises we made—  

were they reckless?  

Were they lies?  

I meant them when I said them.  

But forever was a weight I couldn’t carry.  

I hope someone stronger can take my place.  

I hope they love you the way I wanted to,  

but never quite could.

And me?  

I’ll keep carrying this broken heart,  

not because it’s easy,  

but because I’m curious.  

Curious to see if the pain will ever fade.  

Curious to see if I’ll ever stop wondering  

what could have been.  

Curious to see if the world has more for me  

than just the memory of you.

So here I am, at 1 AM,  

alive but not living,  

breathing but not thriving,  

carrying the weight of a love that was  

and the hope of a love that could be.