Month: November 2024

Learning to Live with Your Absence

As time passes, I’m gradually accepting that you’re no longer a part of my life. There are moments, though, when I find myself wanting to reach out, just to hear your thoughts. I imagine the things that might cross your mind these days, but I know, realistically, I’m probably far from your thoughts. I wonder how you felt when Trump became president again—did you even care? These small things I wish I could ask you, little pieces of you I miss.

Every day has been an exercise in survival. You’ve taken something irreplaceable from me, leaving a part of myself hollow and missing. You truly were my world, my better half, and now I’m trying to rebuild without the foundation we once had. It’s surreal, crafting a new life without even the comfort of hearing your voice.

Someday, I hope you might see the effort I put in every single day, working to piece myself back together. I want you to know that even though everything fell apart, I never lost sight of how truly remarkable I thought you were. There was a time when I believed you were the best part of my life, someone rare and wonderful. It still stings to know that the life you’re leading now is so far from the dreams we once shared. I’ve had to force myself to let go of the person I once loved, the memories of you that I cherished.

I’ve started to think of you as someone who no longer exists—the girl I loved is dead and gone, replaced by someone I no longer recognize. That version of you that I adored, that I would’ve built a life around, has faded. Accepting this has been easier than dwelling on how it all unraveled, how the future we’d envisioned slowly slipped away as you drifted toward choices I could never understand. It’s painful, knowing you’re someone I can’t reach, someone who chose a path I’d never imagined you would.

It broke my heart to see you transform, to watch as you became a stranger who spent nights in bars, always looking for the next thrill. I never saw you as the kind of person who would find solace in that life. To reconcile the girl I loved with the choices you’ve made now—it’s been impossible. And so, I let myself think of you as gone, not in a bitter way, but in a way that lets me finally move forward.

With each day, I try to hold on to the parts of myself that remain, to find strength in a world without you, even if it’s a world I never wanted.

As the days grow shorter and the air gains a crisp edge, I find myself counting down to what would have been our seventh anniversary. There’s an excitement in the nostalgia, a bittersweet yearning to retrace the steps of our early days together. I’ve decided that this year, I’m going to revisit some of the places that became markers of our story—those seemingly ordinary spots that became extraordinary in the glow of our shared moments.

I know I won’t be able to cover every memory, every corner of the past, but I’m determined to visit the ones that matter most. The store where we found that perfect jewelry box, for instance, a simple trinket that still holds echoes of laughter and love. I’d love to locate the pharmacy where we shared an impulsive, carefree moment, stealing kisses in the back of my car, wrapped up in the heat of new love. And of course, there’s the place where we first kissed—a spot that seemed to make time stop—and the bed and breakfast where we first became vulnerable and real with each other, leaving no barriers between us.

This journey isn’t just a one-time pilgrimage. It’s something I want to make part of my life, a way to honor you and the profound role you played in shaping me. I want to capture the spirit of who we were, and who you were to me—someone who brought light, laughter, and adventure into my life. Visiting these places will be a way of preserving that, even if it’s just for myself.

And while I’m at it, I plan to take it further. This holiday season, I’m finally going to the Biltmore Estate, a place of grandeur and beauty we always dreamed of visiting together but never did. And next year, I’ll be heading back to Charleston, a city I wish I could have shared with you. I know in my heart that you would have fallen in love with its historic streets, ocean breezes, and hidden gems waiting to be discovered. It’s a trip we never took but always deserved.

These visits won’t fill the emptiness, but they will allow me to embrace it, to acknowledge the love that once was and the person you were—the person who transformed the mundane into magic. Maybe in doing so, I’ll find a sense of peace or, at the very least, moments of joy in reconnecting with pieces of our story.

For now, though, the day’s responsibilities call. There’s work to be done, and life, as always, moves forward. But even as I push through my daily routine, I hold onto that part of me that misses you, loves you, and honors your memory in the only way I know how—by living, remembering, and revisiting the story that was ours.

Today was an ordinary day, but in a way that felt like a small victory. The echoes of your absence didn’t resound as loudly, and I’m beginning to accept the truth that you’re never coming back. The realization is a hard pill to swallow, this deep void that you left, one that once brimmed with late-night conversations, laughter, and shared dreams. It’s strange to navigate this world without my best friend by my side. The loneliness still creeps in, seeping into the quiet corners of my day. But here’s the truth: I don’t want to fill the space that you once occupied. I’d rather let it stay empty, a silent testament to something I once had and lost.

This emptiness holds more than just grief; it holds the memory of a connection that was real, raw, and profound. I know I could never replace that with fleeting moments or shallow interactions. I don’t want to. I can’t pretend that a series of faces or the thrill of momentary distractions could ever hold the weight that you once did. I’ve grown to resent the idea of living a life filled with hollow exchanges and temporary highs. I want something more—a bond that goes beyond skin-deep, something rooted in honesty, growth, and shared purpose. I want to build something that stands the test of time, a connection that doesn’t crumble when life gets hard. I thought that person would be you. It wasn’t. That’s just the way life is, unfair and unrelenting.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand in the rawness of this loneliness: if I’m to build and grow, it has to start with me. Maybe that’s what I needed all along, even though I never would have chosen it. You once lifted me up, showed me glimmers of my own potential, a version of me that felt unstoppable when seen through your eyes. But then you let go. You dropped me, abandoned me, and left me with nothing but silence and unanswered questions. It shattered me in ways I never thought possible, broke me down to the very foundation of who I am.

I’m still piecing myself together. I’m not whole, not yet. Maybe I never will be completely, but every single day I push forward, striving to become the man you once believed I could be. But now, I’m learning to do it for myself. I no longer chase the ghost of your expectations; I do it because I deserve it. I’m finding out that strength isn’t just about holding on, but also about learning to let go. Letting go of the hope that you’ll turn around one day and come back, letting go of the ‘what ifs’ and ‘could have beens.’ Deep down, I know that you won’t. And that’s okay.

It’s time for me to find peace in my solitude, to embrace the man I am becoming without you. To live my life fully, to feel joy in the quiet moments, and to learn to love myself—not as a stand-in for someone else’s affection, but because I am worthy of it. I have to be strong enough to walk this path alone, to build a life where being just me is enough. And one day, maybe that will be more than okay. It will be everything.

Life has a way of challenging us to rise above, especially when we’re standing at the crossroads of who we are and who we aspire to be. Right now, I find myself at that juncture, determined to take control, shed the last few pounds, strengthen my finances, and elevate my life to a place of pride, health, and success. This year is going to be my year—a period where I buckle down, harness my energy, and truly see what I’m capable of becoming.

Over the past few years, I’ve made significant strides in my personal journey. I’ve shed over 100 pounds, gained discipline, and learned resilience through experiences that tested my limits. The progress is real, and it’s something I’m proud of. But pride doesn’t mean complacency, and I’m aware that there’s more to be done. This last phase requires precision, focus, and the kind of effort that pushes beyond comfort into true growth.

The physical transformation is a huge part of this. I’m hitting the gym daily, committed to pushing my body past its perceived limits, building strength and shedding that last bit of weight. It’s more than vanity; it’s a tangible reminder of what dedication can achieve. And while the workouts are intense, they’re balanced with purpose—each rep and every drop of sweat serving as a promise to myself to never settle.

But this isn’t just about fitness; it’s a comprehensive overhaul. I’m looking at life through a sharper lens, examining my financial habits and taking steps to build security and independence. Success doesn’t happen in a vacuum—it requires structure, smart planning, and the ability to pivot when necessary. That’s the rhythm I’m striving to master: a routine that fuels my ambition without burning me out.

One major leap I’m considering is LASIK surgery to bid farewell to my glasses, a small but significant step in how I present myself to the world. It’s part of an overarching goal to boost my confidence and embrace change. Every shift, big or small, symbolizes my commitment to becoming the person I want to be.

I’ve come to terms with something that once felt insurmountable: no matter what I do, Katarina won’t be coming back. Accepting this reality has been a process, filled with its own hurdles and moments of doubt. But I’m determined not to let it define me or derail the progress I’ve made. This chapter is about me and for me—finding peace, building strength, and redefining happiness on my terms.

I can already see glimpses of the person I’m becoming, and it fills me with a quiet pride. But the work isn’t done. The final push, that last stretch of effort, is what stands between me and a version of myself that I’ll look back on and say, You did it. It’s a daunting thought, but also an invigorating one. I’m ready to give it everything I’ve got, embrace the grind, and bring my vision to life.

To anyone reading this who might be on their own path of transformation, know that it’s the moments when progress feels slow that define your journey. Keep going, keep believing, and remember that every step forward is one more brick in the foundation of your future. This year, I’m not just hoping for change—I’m making it happen. And I can’t wait to share what this next chapter brings.

Today marked the closing of a chapter in my life that had been lingering for far too long. I finally said my last goodbye to Katarina. It wasn’t an easy decision, nor was it sudden, but it was necessary. I felt the need to pen this final farewell, not out of anger or lingering hope, but out of acceptance and closure.

A few days ago, we exchanged words for what I know will be the last time. Her message was clear: she was over me, indifferent to what we once had. Surprisingly, I found myself at peace with this revelation. The girl I once adored is no longer there. Time, choices, and circumstances have changed her into someone unrecognizable. The Katarina I loved has been replaced by someone embracing a lifestyle I neither understand nor want any part of. Harsh as it sounds, the path she has chosen feels distant, and to me, it is deeply off-putting.

Life, though, continues forward. Today was mostly filled with chores—mundane yet grounding. Soon, I’ll dive back into my creative projects, specifically making new content for my YouTube channel, which has become a passion and an outlet for my energy. Alongside that, I’m thinking of recommitting to a strict Huel diet to fine-tune my health. My body and mind have been adjusting to my new job, which, despite its demands, has opened up opportunities I never thought possible.

In two weeks, I’ll make a return journey to a place that holds memories both sweet and bittersweet—a bed and breakfast where Katarina and I first shared a moment of true closeness. I plan to capture photos of the sites we visited, a symbolic step in reclaiming those memories for myself. It’s strange how life works; back then, finances were tight, and her excuses to avoid revisiting were endless—her dog, other obligations. Now, with the newfound stability this job offers, I have the means to go on these trips that I once only dreamt of.

The next few months look promising. I’m planning a trip to Charleston in the early spring, when my vacation kicks in. This time, it won’t be shadowed by past longing or regret. It will be a new experience, a new chapter, and a chance to explore life on my own terms.

Here’s to new beginnings, new journeys, and finding peace where there was once only pain.

I don’t think I’ll ever make peace with it.
Not with what she became.
A hollow ache curdles in the pit of my stomach,
an echo of disbelief, a sickening reminder.
The person I loved so fiercely,
the woman I knew with every corner of my heart,
transformed into something foreign,
something that turns my insides cold.

I trace back the memories,
the smiles, the quiet moments,
her eyes—once a world I felt safe in.
And now, the same eyes haunt me in dreams,
turned sharp, distant, haunted by choices
that pull her further and further away
from who she was,
from who I thought we could be.

Night after night, sleep brings no peace.
Nightmares cradle me instead,
painted in shades of her shadow.
She’s there,
but changed, twisted by decisions
that spit in the face of what we once dreamed.
She chose that life over me,
over the family I begged for,
hands raw from pleading,
knees bruised by hope’s cruel betrayal.

I loved her with a desperation
that swallowed me whole,
and in the end,
she turned away,
chose something so unimaginable
it leaves a metallic tang of disgust
on my tongue,
lingering like a ghost that whispers
that I’ll never forget,
that I’ll never heal.

To know that I wasn’t enough,
that our future was a mirage—
a trick of light in a desert of denial.
This is my sadness,
a forever wound that festers,
the haunting that lives with me,
breathing where hope once dared to.

Today felt different—like the calm before a storm of change. It was a day that carried a sense of quiet triumph mixed with an acknowledgment of the challenges that lie ahead. At work, I received news that a series of major projects are coming my way. It’s not just the usual tasks; these are substantial, demanding projects that will push me to step up in ways I haven’t before. It’s going to require grit, focus, and a level of dedication that matches my determination to grow. It feels like life’s test, a call to prove not just my competence, but my resilience and ability to adapt. And I’m ready.

Beyond work, I’m setting my sights on personal projects that carry a deep sense of fulfillment. I’m taking steps toward building my own tiny home—a space that will be a reflection of my independence and newfound focus. Alongside that, I’m preparing to put effort into restoring my mom’s old house. These projects are more than just physical tasks; they are symbols of anchoring myself to stability and building a foundation that is entirely my own.

But the weight of personal transformation doesn’t come without pain. Lately, I’ve come to terms with a truth that has been hard to swallow: in the end, I can only rely on myself. No one, not even those who once promised to walk through life beside me, will always be there. This realization hit hardest when I thought of Katarina. The path she’s chosen has carved a rift between us, one that can’t be bridged. It’s a choice that broke my heart, not just for what it meant for us, but because it revealed a side of her I never wanted to see. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt or that I don’t wish it had been different. It feels like betrayal; it feels like being shattered by the very person who once gave me the most hope.

Despite the pain, gratitude still finds a way to surface. Katarina, for all the ways she lifted me up and later let me fall, was integral in shaping who I am today. In her presence, I learned to believe in the power of us, and more importantly, in myself. The highs of that belief were intoxicating, and the lows—when she pulled away and left me with nothing but echoes of what we had—were devastating. She broke the illusions I clung to and left me on the ground to rebuild with pieces that, although scattered, were mine to gather and reshape.

I’m thankful for the lessons that came wrapped in heartbreak. I’m grateful that she showed me my limits so that I could push past them. For years, I trusted her with everything I had, believing she would be my constant. Now, in her absence, I’m learning to become my own unwavering support. It’s a painful gratitude, a complicated one, but it’s real.

From now on, I’m shifting my focus inward. I’m going to work harder than I ever have, not out of bitterness, but out of a genuine drive to strengthen myself. I want to build a life defined not by what was lost but by what I chose to create in the aftermath. I want to become strong—not just in the physical sense, but mentally, emotionally, and in my dedication to my own growth. This is for me, for the future I’m crafting, and for the parts of me that are still learning to stand tall after being knocked down.

Every project, every hour spent in sweat and effort, is a testament to this newfound resolve. I will take these challenges head-on, grateful for what they teach me and steadfast in my journey forward. I may not have the partnership I once envisioned, but I do have myself—and that is more powerful than I ever realized.