Sometimes you feel this hollowness in your chest, something you can’t describe. Like you know that this moment, in the story of you, will be remembered- most of the time, because you did something wrong, you hurt someone you cared about. Because you were a terrible person and you regret it. That the person will look at you differently now that they’ve given up.
There is no worse feeling than realizing that you’ve been given up. Like now, you no longer are their concern. Even if you were cruel, that person still matters and you wonder if your aspirations are worth it, that despite any time you fought, they were there for you. Now you find yourself wishing you could do something fix it, but you cannot and now you’re scared that you will be estranged. And thinking about it makes you tear up, because nothing was worth it and you’re reminded by all the things you could’ve changed, all the times you did them wrong and you ask why were you so stupid? What you had mattered and if you could turn back the clock, you sure as hell wouldn’t do that.
And the feeling in your chest expands to your throat, constricting your breathing and you want slam your head against the wall. It’s a ship that’s long gone, but you still have hope that it will be saved.
And you look back, a month later, grateful that it fixed itself.