Glimmers

 Friday, April, 4th, 2025

They say the opposite of triggers are glimmers. Those little moments where you find peace, where you notice the beauty of the world and of your life. Those glimmers are my saving boat. A stranger's smile. The way the light hits the water and makes it look so beautiful. The sky being painted in pastel colours at sunrise. The bus driver seeing me run and waiting for me. A comforting song playing just at the right moment. The sun hitting a glass surface just right and creating a rainbow on the ground. 

I notice those moments and for a second everything is well. For a second there is no sadness, no anger, no confusion. Just peace, at least a glimpse of it. For a second all is well. And maybe one day it will.

Diaries of a broken heart #3

 Thursday, April, 3rd, 2025

And after the pain, the sadness, the heaviness, finally comes the anger that I welcome with open arms. Anger that fills me with fire, with energy, that I can use to move on, to move with purpose, to move. Sadness feels like being stuck, while anger fuels me and pushes me to move.

Isn't it funny how fast it goes? What isn't funny though, is the back and forth. One minute I'm heartbroken, sad, on the ground crying and the next I'm hopeful, I can dry my tears and stand up on my own. And then, like a roller-coaster, I'm down on my knees again begging for a sign.

This is the worst heartbreak ever. The kind where you slowly realize the person you love might not be the person you need them to be, they might no be the One.

How do you say goodbye to someone you deeply love and care for? How do you adjust to their absence, to the massive hole they leave in your life?

Diaries of a broken heart #2

 Tuesday, April, 1st, 2025

I didn't realize my heart was going to break multiple times. That every time I would remember the reality, it would break more. That every time that new reality would sink in, it would break again. That it's a constant breaking and suffocating. That my throat would close up everytime I had to say it out loud. "it's over". That my eyes would fill with tears and blurry vision was going to become the new normal. That the pain in my chest was going to be the new normal. That this pain was going to be my companion for so long. Maybe that's the secret in going better, making this pain my friend? Using it as an armor, a crutch. And then maybe one day I won't need it anymore. And I'll be able to let her go. Just like I will be able to let you go.

 One day, maybe.

Diaries of a broken heart

Monday, March, 31st, 2025

I didn't realize the expression having a broken heart was so real. That I would feel an emptiness in my chest. That I would feel like someone physically ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it in a thousand pieces. That I would be on the ground, hurt and trying to mend all the pieces back together. That breathing would be near impossible. That my tears would run down my face, and that there would be no stopping them.

How am I supposed to survive? To keep my heart open, to not close it off forever to protect it? How do I keep being real, authentic, fully myself when all I want is to build a wall and hide my heart forever?

Will I manage to forget the immense pain and one day fall in love again and risk this heartbreak again? Is it true that it's better to have loved and have lost than to have not loved at all? Cause right now I would say the opposite.

I go through the motions, follow my carefully created routine and put a feet in front of the other trying to live with this hole on my chest, with this overwhelming pain.

I know they won't be with me forever but it's so hard to see it now. To have hope that little by little I'll feel better, I'll feel happy and I'll feel whole again. That I'll come through this chapter stronger than ever.

I wish I could know of you miss me as much as I miss you. If you think of me as much as I think of you. If you're as desperate as me to run into each other's. If every song remind you of me like they remind me of you. If you wish you could go back to yestetday just to hold me in your arms one last time again, like I wish to.

Writing helps. Like somehow putting pain into words is easing it. Making my chest feel a little lighter. Maybe a little hopeful as well. Hopeful that this pain will ease. That I'll survive. That I'll be fine again. That I'll be happy again. That one day, all of this will be a distant memory.