Is this it?
The pain I haven’t been able to get rid of for two months now?
Is it the pain of my promise?
The pain I have to carry because I let my soulmate bleed out?
Is it karma?
Is it consequence?
I feel empty.
I made a promise that I would never love another person again — and that is exactly how it is.
I went on a date… one… and all I could think about was him.
About the loving, sweet man with those soulful, gentle eyes — the man whose heart I broke with my own mess.
I hurt him. I kicked him while he was down and left him there, bleeding.
Until the moment came when he left me bleeding in return and went on to live his life. Without me. Without the darkness he knew through me.
I have never mourned a person for this long.
And even if, in some moments, it looks like I’m not grieving — when I laugh and go about my life — he is still there.
And then the pain hits me again with such force that I can barely breathe.
That I lose myself and choke on my tears.
He is the reason I am becoming the person I am now.
The reason I fight harder than I ever have before.
The reason I am still here at all.
It was months.
Months full of love and hope — and I destroyed it.
Forgiving myself feels almost impossible.
People tell me that at the time I didn’t know any better.
But is it okay to think that way?
I saw him when I hurt him.
I heard the pain in his voice, saw it in his eyes — and I can’t just pretend I was never that person.
I can’t forgive myself for not trusting him, for accusing him of things that never happened, for always portraying myself as the victim.
Two months — and the tears still burn just as hot.
Two months — and I still hate my old self.
I hate what I did.
I hate who I was.
I hate everything about the person I was in 2025.
Every time I write a new post, click the live button, record a new video, or pose for a new photo, it feels like I’m betraying the ‘us’ we once were.
I thought I had given up hope for an ‘us’ — but I haven’t.
I still hope.
I still pray.
And every time I hear footsteps outside my window, or a car, or the doorbell rings, I hope it’s him.
I swore I would never love another man again — and that vow has taken over my heart.
No matter what I do, I think of him.
No matter what music I listen to, what movie I watch, no matter what happens in my life — I think of him.
I miss talking to him.
I miss looking into his beautiful eyes.
I miss falling asleep to his voice reading me a bedtime story.
I miss his messages.
I miss sharing music with him.
And far too often, I catch myself wondering who has that privilege now.
Who gets to experience the miracle of having this man by their side?
I wish it were me.
I wish I could go to him and tell him how much I still love him — and that I always will.
But I can’t.
Because there is an ocean between us.
And yet, I would still set the world on fire for him.
I would still protect him from anyone who hurts him — even my old self.
Two months — and he is all I think about.
And even if there are people who admire me, or the date I went on — they are not him.
Two months — and my heart lies in ruins, shattered by the bomb I set off myself.
Two months — and I still ache for him.
Midnight Soul 