[From the Diaries]
You always have to remember why you ended things with someone. So you don’t romanticize it later. So you don’t go back and rewrite history in their favor.
We last spoke at 2 AM. He said he was sorry.
Sorry. Such an easy word.
But the weight of a sorry on someone’s psyche can do irreversible damage.
I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday afternoon. He’d been distant since then. I was hoping to see him Wednesday evening. Then Thursday. Even Friday. Nothing.
I finally called him Saturday evening. No answer.
The kind of silence that sends chills through your entire body.
And then I did something I never thought I would do. I monitored his Snap score. Even typing that now feels insane. That I had to reduce myself to numbers and increments and digital breadcrumbs. But I did.
When I saw it go up by two points, something in me snapped. That was it. I was done.
I couldn’t keep torturing myself. I couldn’t keep shrinking into someone who waits, who checks, who spirals.
So I blocked him. Everywhere.
And then the panic set in. My chest tightened. My breathing felt shallow and fast. I had to sit down and consciously breathe in and out, reminding myself that I was safe. That heartbreak is not death. That letting go, even when it burns, is sometimes the only way to save yourself.
I knew it would hurt.
But I also knew that holding on would hurt more.
And maybe I will love again.
Or maybe I won’t.
But what I do know is this: I chose myself in that moment. And even if it feels unbearable right now, there is something freeing about finally saying, enough.
She Was Sea 