Cutting my heart out

Its 1230am at night and as I sit here, penning down the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me, I find myself grappling with a torrent of conflicting thoughts. My recent conversation with him has left me in a state of emotional turmoil, a storm brewing within the depths of my soul, threatening to consume me whole.

He confessed, in a raw moment of vulnerability, that he fears being happy in my presence. The mere thought that his happiness might be snatched away from him, like a cruel thief in the night, pierces my heart with a pang of agony. How did we come to this point? Where every smile, every laugh, feels like walking on a tightrope, teetering on the edge of an abyss of uncertainty?

His laughter, once music to my ears, now serves as a reminder of the distance between us. How effortlessly he smiles in her presence, free from the shackles of doubt and fear. And as he speaks of her, painting her as a beacon of perfection, my resentment festers like a wound left untended

He speaks of her, his current flame, with such reverence, such adoration, that it ignites a flame of jealousy within me. She, who knows him so intimately, so effortlessly, has become the embodiment of perfection in his eyes. And here I am, drowning in a sea of insecurities, haunted by the fear that I am nothing more than a faded memory, a mere practice run in the grand scheme of his life.

You know he praised her abilities and her professionalism so much. Said she became head of something and is leading something in her field and I’ve never head a single bloody compliment. I don’t know why it matters that he compliments me, why it drives me crazy that he can’t say a bloody good thing about me. I know he believes it till his last breath of the kind of person I am but everytime I talk to him I feel like a loser. Like I have nothing good in me, not as a human, in my career, in anything ever. He never once has complimented anything that I did. The one thing that I thought was won by me by my efforts alone was later revealed to be something he had a hand it. It felt like alms. Like I didn’t Deserve it and got it because I was with him. Would a man who means so less to me have so much impact? On one hand my actions reflect no care for his feelings and on the other this whirlwind is tossing me around.

But deep down, I know the truth. He was never a practice run for me. His presence in my life was a symphony of love, of passion, of shared dreams and whispered promises. It took me far too long to realize the depth of my feelings, to understand the gravity of what we shared. And now, as I stand at the crossroads of love and letting go, I am torn between holding on and setting him free.

Should I walk away, relinquish my hold on him, and allow him to bask in the radiance of her love? Or should I stay, fighting against the currents of doubt and insecurity, until there is nothing left of me to give? These questions plague my mind, gnawing at the edges of my sanity, as I grapple with the weight of my emotions.

But one thing remains clear amidst the chaos of my thoughts: I cannot bear to see him suffer, to witness the shadow of fear that clouds his happiness in my presence. If leaving means setting him free, if it means granting him the chance to find true happiness, then perhaps it is a sacrifice worth making.

Yet, the thought of walking away, of abandoning the pursuit of him, fills me with a sense of profound loss. For in him, I see the reflection of my hopes, my dreams, my deepest desires. And to let go would be to surrender a piece of myself, to bid farewell to a love that once set my soul ablaze.

In the end, I must acknowledge that his heart now belongs to another, and I am but a specter of the past, haunting the corners of his mind. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that I am no longer the one who brings him solace, but rather the cause of his apprehension.

So here I am, standing at the precipice of a decision, torn between love and letting go, between holding on and setting him free. In the end, perhaps the answer lies not in the pursuit of him, but in the pursuit of my own peace of mind. For only then can I truly find solace amidst the storm, only then can I begin to heal the wounds that linger within my heart, so that I can have the strength to continue fighting this war or heal my wounds after surrender.