[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.27.4″ background_color=”#0a0a0a” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.16″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_video src=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtmWsteNZCg” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][/et_pb_video][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ text_font=”Montserrat||||||||” text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″]
There’s a certain kind of ache that doesn’t hit loud.
It doesn’t break you open.
It doesn’t send you spiraling or leave you gasping for air.
It’s quieter.
More subtle.
Like something tugging at the inside of your chest every time your mind drifts to a memory you didn’t ask for.
I carried that ache longer than I want to admit.
At first, I told myself it was heartbreak.
Then I told myself it was disappointment.
Then I told myself it was him…
his absence, his silence, his truth, his timing.
But when I finally sat with it…
when I slowed down long enough to listen to the ache instead of trying to outrun it…
I realized none of this was about him.
The void was mine.
I created it the moment I ignored the signs I knew were real.
The moment I twisted his honesty into potential.
The moment I kept reaching even after he said he wasn’t ready,
wasn’t able,
wasn’t the best version of himself.
He didn’t lead me on.
I led myself on.
That part was the hardest to accept.
It’s wild how we can take someone’s truth… a truth they gave us clean … and still convince ourselves that we’re the exception.
Still convince ourselves that timing will shift.
Still convince ourselves that they’ll circle back healed, whole, and ready for us.
I built a fantasy because the fantasy felt safer than the truth.
And when the fantasy dissolved, the void opened.
But here’s the part that mattered:
the void didn’t close when I let go of him.
It didn’t close when he stopped showing up.
It didn’t close when the messages stopped, the calls stopped, the hopes stopped.
It closed the day I came back to myself.
The day I looked at my reflection and said,
“You knew better. Now move better.”
The day I stopped making someone else’s journey a reflection of my worth.
The day I understood that his truth had nothing to do with my value.
The day I realized I wasn’t losing love…
I was losing a story I wrote in my head.
Now?
Now the ache doesn’t hurt.
It hums … like a low bass line reminding me of the lesson.
A reminder that love shouldn’t make you abandon yourself.
A reminder that I’m not meant to chase clarity..
I’m meant to become it.
This story isn’t about him.
It’s about the moment I finally chose me.
[/et_pb_text][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][/et_pb_section]