The Text That Shattered My Fairytale
I was still wearing the apron from the dinner I’d cooked—his favorite, coconut-lime chicken—when the text landed.
“I think we want different things. I need space.”
Nine words. No call. No warning. Just nine polite little knives.
I read it three times, convinced autocorrect had sabotaged him. Then I sat on the kitchen floor, clutching my phone like a CPR dummy, begging a dead signal to bring him back to life.
That was the night I discovered begging is a silent scream—the other person never even hears it.
The 2 a.m. Trap: Why We Chase People Who Already Left
At 2:14 a.m. I drafted the perfect paragraph:
I can change. I can be less intense. I can pretend I’m cool with casual. I can delete every emotion that scares you.
I read it, deleted it, rewrote it, added a sunflower emoji because maybe that would feel lighter.
I never hit send. Instead, I watched my reflection in the black screen and saw the ugliest truth:
I was negotiating my worth with someone who had already left the table.
Here’s the physics of heartbreak: the more you run toward someone who’s walking away…
