đź’” The Ache I Can't Excape đź’”
💔Today was my birthday. A day that should have felt like celebration ended with me lying in bed, feeling like my heart had shattered into pieces. The ache inside me is so heavy it almost feels physical—like I’m carrying a weight I can’t put down.
My husband of 28 years ignored me the whole evening, as if I were invisible. We already sleep in separate rooms, but tonight it felt like more than distance—it felt like a testimony of my existence, of how unseen I’ve become in my own marriage.
Loneliness. Despair. Emptiness. They’ve become companions I never invited, yet they never leave. I keep chasing after the love and connection I long for, desperately reaching for it as if it could heal the hollow parts of me. But every time, it slips away—like chasing the end of a rainbow, or a mirage in the desert. The closer I get, the more it vanishes.
And so I lie here, broken on a day that should have meant something, asking myself the hardest question: how do I let go of a dream my soul refuses to stop dreaming?đź’”
My husband of 28 years ignored me the whole evening, as if I were invisible. We already sleep in separate rooms, but tonight it felt like more than distance—it felt like a testimony of my existence, of how unseen I’ve become in my own marriage.
Loneliness. Despair. Emptiness. They’ve become companions I never invited, yet they never leave. I keep chasing after the love and connection I long for, desperately reaching for it as if it could heal the hollow parts of me. But every time, it slips away—like chasing the end of a rainbow, or a mirage in the desert. The closer I get, the more it vanishes.
And so I lie here, broken on a day that should have meant something, asking myself the hardest question: how do I let go of a dream my soul refuses to stop dreaming?đź’”
51-55, F
