As powerful as the mind can be, it can be equally destructive. Lately,
mine has turned against me. I haven’t been able to go to work for the
past month. I am on antidepressants. I still go to the gym, but it’s not
changing anything so far—it just feels like going through the motions of
a life I can no longer recognize. I can’t leave the house because every
step outside is a reminder of places we once shared. The sight of good
weather, which should be a source of warmth, only makes me think of how
it would have felt to go on a trip with her, or to simply sit in the
park feeding squirrels with her by my side. Now, even the sun feels
cruel, casting light on everything I’ve lost.
I am stuck, and I am ashamed to admit it. I’ve been trying—really
trying. I’ve been seeing a psychologist. I go out for drives just to let
off some of the anger that’s rotting inside me. A few days ago, I drove
for two hours on the motorway without any destination, just letting the
road swallow me. For a moment, I thought I was relieved. But when I came
back home, I broke down, crying about her all over again.
There is
a map in my mind—a live, cruel map. Wherever I go, I see my location in
relation to hers. It doesn’t matter if she’s miles away or down the
street, her presence lingers in every corner of my mental landscape. Can
anyone imagine living like that? Constantly oriented toward someone who
no longer cares? How does the entire world feel empty of all people just
because of one person?
But please, don’t mistake this for madness. I am not insane. I am not
mad. I just love you. That’s all. As deeply, as humanly, as unreasonably
as love can be. My mind isn’t broken—it is just full of you. I carry you
with me everywhere, even when I don’t want to. You are in every place I
look, every song I hear, every corner of my mind. I can’t escape it. I
wouldn’t even know how.
My sister, the only person I still share a space with, is leaving soon.
And when she does, I will have no one. No familiar footsteps in the
hall, no voice to break the silence. Just me and this place—a curse I
can’t get cured from. I am terrified of how empty it will feel, of the
weight that will settle in every room. I wonder how I’m supposed to
survive all of this.
And if I do—if somehow I crawl through
this—what will be left of me? How dry and brittle will my heart become?
Who will be my outlet if I need to cry or talk? The person I once leaned
on is gone. The one I once shared everything with—the one who felt like
home—is with someone else, living a life I am no longer part of.
After
everything I worked so hard to achieve—after years of struggle, after
building a life from the rubble of war, after earning my place in tech,
after all the sacrifices—I still lost everything that mattered. I am at
the edge of life. I don’t know how or when it will end, but I know I
can’t keep going like this. I just can’t take it anymore.