Author: RAVIOLIS

Today, I’m off to take a drug test for my new job, which starts Monday. It feels like the beginning of a new chapter in my life—a turning point. So much is going to change, or at least, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it change. I know I’m at the midpoint of my life, and while I don’t want to lose all sense of fun, I need to start taking things seriously. I need to focus on my health, get in the best shape I can, and push myself further in my education. I want to get more certifications, work my way up to becoming a facility manager, and make good money, to be a good provider.

I know my ex is never coming back. She’s with another man now, and she won’t even acknowledge me. I’ve accepted that I’m nothing to her, and that’s just how it is. I can’t keep waiting for someone who’s already gone. I’ve got to start focusing on myself.

But the truth is, I’ve always relied on others. I’ve relied on my own strength, but I know how weak I am. I’m weak-minded, and I’ve never been able to handle life alone. I always hoped my ex would be the one to help me, to stick around and be there for me no matter what. I thought she was different, someone I could trust, someone who would stand by me through all the struggles. But I see now how naive that was.

People change. People come and go. They care about themselves, about what they want, and right now, she’s getting what she wants from someone else. I can’t rely on her, and I can’t rely on anyone else either.

So, I’ve decided to find strength elsewhere. I’m going to start a Bible study. I’m not even sure if I believe in God, but the ritual of it—reading a verse every day, reflecting on it—that in itself can give me structure, something solid to hold on to. I’ve even thought about doing a daily Facebook reel, one verse a day, where I share my thoughts. I think if I stick with it, in a few years I might be stronger, even if I never truly find God.

But I believe that trying to believe in something bigger than myself will help me. If I can focus on something outside of people, outside of the human condition, maybe I’ll find the strength I need to move forward.

Driving to get this drug test, I’ve been thinking about all of this. About how foolish I was to sit around, waiting for someone to realize they needed me when it was clear they never did. I’m the weak one. I’m the one who needs others. But I can’t rely on people anymore. I have to stop needing other people. I have to learn to rely on an inner strength.

This is the lesson the hurricane taught me. Between seeing my ex with another man and witnessing the devastation around me, I’ve realized that the world I once knew no longer exists. Everything has changed. My parents are gone. My ex won’t even speak to me. I’m completely alone. And in a matter of hours, a hurricane can sweep through and take away everything you’ve built. You can’t rely on things, on people, or even on yourself. You have to find something greater.

That’s where I’m going to try to find strength. In faith. In something bigger than me. And if I don’t find it in Christianity, I’ll keep searching. I used to care a lot about spirituality when I was younger. I studied different religions, but I never fully committed to any of them. I never really studied the Bible like I should have. So now, I’m going to.

I’ll start this journey—reading, learning, searching—and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the strength I’ve been missing all this time.

God, I need your help. I’ve been so lost, wandering in this darkness, and I can’t seem to find my way without Katarina. I loved her so much. I needed her, but she doesn’t care about me anymore. She won’t even speak to me. She’s chosen another man, and I don’t even believe she truly loves him. She’s become someone I barely recognize, someone who hurts me just by existing as she does now.

It breaks my heart to see her like this—drugs, alcohol, casual sex with men. The kind, sweet girl I loved has become everything I fear and hate. It’s tearing me apart, God, because I thought she was different. I thought I had found someone special, someone who would help me, who would be there for me.

But now I see the truth. I made a huge mistake, God. I put my trust in someone else—someone just as flawed and broken as I am. I’m mad at her when I should be mad at myself. I can’t blame her for not loving me or for choosing another path. I just need your help to move on, to escape this suffocating pain I feel every day.

I want to devote myself to you. I don’t know if you’re real, but I have to find something—something that will give me hope again. I want to believe in something greater than myself, something that won’t abandon me, something stronger than the weak, flawed people I’ve surrounded myself with.

Please, let me believe in you. Show yourself to me, God. I swear, if you do, I’ll be yours forever. This pain is killing me, and I can’t bear it anymore. Please, give me something to hold onto. Show me there’s a way out of this suffering.

It doesn’t matter anymore. I love you. I just hate myself so much for losing you. I knew, without a doubt, that you were my soulmate. You had me—completely. All I ever needed was for you to come back and be my girl again. Save me, like you did before. You saved me once, and I owe everything to you.

All I wanted was for you to come back and show me that you were still there. That’s all I needed. The world was yours in return. I swear, you’d never have to go without anything you desired. All I ever wanted was you.

Now, I’ll die alone. Every single day, I’ll think about you, missing you, wishing you were still here. I’m sorry I bothered you. It won’t happen again. Goodbye. I do love you, and I hope someday you’ll at least acknowledge that I still exist. I know you’ll never come back to me. I know you won’t let me marry you. I understand—it’s too late. You can’t love me anymore. You have someone else now.

But I love you. I would give anything to fix things. But if I can’t have that, I wish more than anything that I could at least know you, be a part of your life in some way. But I understand. I know it’s what you want, and I can’t change that. Seeing you with him would only destroy me—destroy my heart and soul, and it would drive me to the edge.

Every single day is a battle now. A battle just to stay sane. I’m suffering more than you’ll ever know. How much I wish I could just hear your voice again, see your eyes, feel your lips. I miss your lips more than anything I own, more than anything I could ever have. I would give everything just to go back and hold you every night. I ruined my life. You were my whole world. I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize.

Monday, I’ll start my new job. I’ll be making enough to support you, to give you the life I always promised. I would be so happy if I could come home to you, see you every night, just be near you.

But I know it’s too late. And I’ll carry that pain with me forever.

I realize now that all the times she pretended to care were just that—an illusion. It was all a façade, a game of pretending. In the end, people only care about themselves. They always do. It’s a hard truth to swallow, but I see it now. Everyone is only ever looking out for their own self-interest. True care, true love—it’s rare, if it even exists.

Today has been one of the hardest days of my life. Emotionally, it’s been a battle. I’ve been fighting just to hold myself together, trying not to break down completely. But inside, I feel like I’m dying, like I’m surrendering to the pain bit by bit.

Still, I’m going to stick to my plan. I’m going to hold on to my dream. Even though I’m completely alone, even though the world feels different, I’m going to document it all anyway. I’ll record it for myself, so that one day I can look back and see how much everything has changed. Just like I can look back on the last seven years and realize that I’m not in the same world anymore.

In the coming year, I’m dedicating myself fully to this project. I’ll spend every free moment revitalizing it, bringing it back to life. When I’m not working at my new job, I’ll be focused on this. Monday marks the start of something new, and as I adjust to the change, I’m hopeful. I’m excited for the opportunity, for a chance to prove myself.

I’m going to work hard—harder than ever before. I want to be strong. I want to be someone who can’t be treated the way I’ve been treated. I want to get in shape, get my mind right, and become successful. Maybe, someday, someone will see me, truly see me, and treat me with the respect, love, and dedication that I deserve.

But until then, I’m on my own. And that’s okay. I’ll build something for myself.

It’s strange, isn’t it? To think you’ve found your soulmate. To truly believe that someone is going to be there for you, to be your partner, your support, your everything. You think they’re kind, good, the type of person you can trust with your whole heart. So, you give them everything. Every part of yourself, every ounce of hope you have left.

And then they throw it all away.

They turn their back on you, choosing something—or someone—that makes no sense to you. They walk away from what you thought was love. And you’re left wondering what it all meant. What it all was. It’s a heartache so deep, it feels like your soul is cracking under the weight of it.

I was in love—truly in love. I thought they were in love with me, too. We had so much fun together, shared so many moments that felt sacred. I thought we had a bond no one could break. And then, suddenly, they became this cold, distant person. They turned to casual flings, to a life so detached from the one we shared. It’s like they became a stranger, like the person I knew was replaced by someone I no longer recognize.

It makes me wonder if this is even the same world I was in before. Everything feels upside down. Nothing makes sense anymore. The reality I thought I lived in has unraveled, leaving me grasping for something solid, something real.

I don’t trust the world anymore. I don’t trust the people in it. It’s like everything is a lie. And so, I’m searching—searching for an inner strength, for something bigger than myself, bigger than anyone else. Something strong enough to hold me together because right now, I feel like I’m slipping.

I wonder if this is what hell feels like. If I’m living in my own personal version of it.

I’m really struggling right now. The weight of the pain feels unbearable, like it’s consuming me from the inside out. I’m trying—trying so hard—to accept the reality that she doesn’t care about me. She never did. Nine months. It’s been nine months, and I still can’t let go of the idea that maybe, somehow, she could still care about me. How crazy am I to hold onto that hope?

Finding her with another man was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. Yet, here I am, wondering why I even thought I was anything to her. She doesn’t need me. She made that clear in a thousand ways. I’m nothing to her.

I keep telling myself I have to focus on me now. I have to become stronger—stronger than this pain, stronger than the heartbreak. I have to build myself up so no one can ever hurt me like this again. I want to be strong. I want to overcome this. But it feels like no matter how hard I try, the weight keeps pulling me down.

When the storm came, it broke something in me. I thought maybe, just maybe, she would need me. That I could be the one to show up for her, to prove how much I still loved her. But when I found her with him, it shattered me in ways I didn’t think possible. I thought I was on the verge of losing my mind before, but now, I’m certain. The edge is closer than ever.

I’m doing everything I can just to hold on—to hold on to any shred of sanity, to try and survive the way she’s treated me. But it’s hard. So damn hard.

This year, I’m making a promise to myself. By 2025, I’m going to change. I’m going to read the Bible. I’m going to focus on fitness, on getting in shape. Maybe if I distract myself enough—if I throw myself into something—this pain will loosen its grip. Maybe I won’t feel so lonely. Maybe I’ll stop missing her so much.

I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried everything I can think of. But she’s never going to be there for me. She’s never going to need me. She’s never going to love me.

Today, I sat down to map out my first day trip—something I haven’t done in a long time. As I started planning, it hit me how much there is to do, how many places there are to see. I realized I can’t rush through this. I can’t do an entire county in one day and expect to truly experience it, to really capture it the way I need to.

If I want to do this right—if I want to really absorb these places and take the time to get good pictures, to honor the memories—I’m going to have to slow down. Each stop will need its own time, its own hour to breathe. So I chose seven places for my first trip to Rock Hill, the place where this journey will begin.

It’s strange. Rock Hill feels like an odd place to start, yet it seems fitting. This trip, like so many of the others I will take, will be difficult. Sad, even. Because she’s not here with me. She’s not beside me, walking through these streets, laughing at the small joys we used to share. But I know that if I don’t do this—if I don’t walk these steps alone—I’ll never be able to let go. I’ll never be able to move on.

Sunday will mark the first real step in that journey. The first trip.

The first place on my list is Cherry Park. I remember looking at its green spaces and thinking how peaceful it looked. It’s a popular spot for locals, with trails weaving through the park. I’ll probably start the day here, walking the paths, taking in the morning air. Maybe it’ll give me some of the peace I need to carry me through the rest of the day. The park has art installations scattered throughout, and I can already picture how they’ll look in my photographs—pieces of calm amidst the chaos that has been my life lately.

From there, I’ll make my way to Winthrop University. It’s a historic place, with architecture that feels like it belongs to another time. The neoclassical buildings, the sprawling grounds—it’s the kind of place she would have loved. She had a way of making even the simplest of places feel like grand adventures. I can’t help but think of her as I will walk through the campus, passing Tillman Hall with its bell tower standing tall against the sky. It’s a reminder of how time keeps moving forward, even when we feel stuck in the past.

Next will be Glencairn Garden. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about this stop. The 11 acres of winding pathways and blooming flowers seem so serene, yet there’s an aching sadness in the thought of walking through a garden meant for two, by myself. She loved gardens almost as much as train depots. She would’ve marveled at the ponds, the small sculptures hidden among the greenery. I’ll have to take my time here, capturing the beauty around me while holding onto the bittersweet memories of what we once had.

After that, I’ll head to The Church of Our Saviour. Built in 1871, it’s a place full of history, much like the churches we visited together before. Gothic Revival architecture, stained-glass windows—it’s the kind of place that feels heavy with meaning. Maybe, standing there in the quiet of that church, I’ll find a moment of reflection. I’ll stand in the same silence that has been in my heart since she left, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a way to accept it.

The White House will be next on the list. A building that used to be a courthouse and post office, now just another piece of history. It’s a reminder that things change. People move on. Life moves forward, whether we’re ready or not. I’ll take pictures of its old architecture, but I know that it’ll serve as another reminder of how fleeting things are—how even the most solid structures, the most secure feelings, can crumble.

Then, there’s the Freedom Walkway. A place that commemorates local heroes of the civil rights movement. It’s humbling to think of the courage and strength that’s woven into this space, into the murals and stories it tells. Walking through the walkway, I’ll feel the weight of history, and it’ll make me think about my own path. I’ve been stuck in the past, clinging to what once was, while people throughout history have fought so hard to move forward. I need to learn how to do that—how to let go and walk my own path.

Finally, I’ll visit the Rock Hill Downtown Historic District. This area will be the heart of the trip, full of old 19th-century buildings, small-town charm, and places to stop for a quiet coffee. It’ll be a moment to breathe, to sit and reflect. Maybe it’ll be a chance to let the weight of the day settle in, to acknowledge the sadness that comes with making these steps without her by my side.

This trip, this day in Rock Hill, will be the first of many. But it’s more than just a day trip. It’s the beginning of something I have to do for myself. The beginning of facing the reality of what’s gone, and learning how to walk through it, step by step, until I can finally move on.

In order to finally complete this project, my photo book, I need to travel to every county in South Carolina and re-photograph many of the places I visited seven years ago. It’s really more of a photography project now, a way to capture not only the places I once knew but also how they’ve changed over time.

For my first official trip, I’ll be heading to York County.

This time, I want to be more diligent in planning. I’ll try to call places ahead of time or at least make sure they’re open before I go. One of the places I’m hoping to revisit is Historic Brattonsville. I’m not even sure if it’s open right now, but it’s the kind of place I want to capture again. There are also several gardens, and I believe there’s even a Buddhist temple somewhere in the area.

I’ve been inspired by an old book called South Carolina: A Day at a Time. It was written by two women who traveled all over the state, taking pictures and making fun day trips in each county. The book is pretty old now, and many of the places they documented probably aren’t in the same condition. I thought it might be fun to retrace some of their steps, but also add my own locations to the mix.

Back then, I wasn’t as interested in photographing churches, since the book featured so many. But now, I find myself drawn to them, fascinated by their history and architecture. I plan to make them a bigger part of my project this time around.

I’m looking for any historical sites or interesting locations in York County, places I can legally access to take photos. If anyone knows of any hidden gems, I’d appreciate the help.

A lot has been changing in my life lately. I’m starting a new job soon, and it feels like a big shift. I’ve been doing some soul searching, and with everything that’s happening, it feels like the right time to finally finish what I started.

But the only way I’ll ever complete this project is by starting over. I’ve come to realize that many of the places I wanted to include in the book might not even be there anymore. I’m going to have to revisit every single county, and it’s going to take time. But I’m ready.

This journey is just beginning.

I know it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. And I know I’m probably just being foolish, but for the longest time, I truly believed she loved me.

I never expected the day would come when I’d find her with another man—inside the house we built together. A house full of our things, our memories. And there she was, giving herself to someone else. The reality of it hit like a punch to the gut. The truth I had denied for so long was right in front of me.

She had moved on. She really was that kind of person.

What hurt even more was the thought that she probably didn’t even love him. He was likely just another guy, someone she met at a bar, someone who didn’t mean anything to her. Yet there she was, and here I am, left to sit in the wreckage of everything we once had. I’m the one suffering, and she doesn’t even care. I don’t matter to her. Not anymore.

Maybe I never did.

I don’t know if anyone truly understands that kind of pain. The pain of realizing you’ve been replaced so easily, of knowing that someone who once meant everything to you now sees you as nothing. The pain of seeing the life you imagined with someone crumble before your eyes, while they move on without a second thought.

It’s unbearable.

And yet, that moment—the moment I saw her with him—made one thing clear: I have to move on. I have to stop living in this fantasy that she’ll come back or that she ever truly loved me. She doesn’t. She never did.

I’ve spent so much time lying to myself, holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she still cared. But she doesn’t. And I have to accept that.

No one is going to take care of me. No one is going to be there for me the way I wanted her to be. It’s just me now. It always will be.

I have to learn to live with that truth. I’ll always be alone.

In just two days, I’ll begin the journey. The one I’ve been preparing for—retracing the steps of our shared past. I need to decide where to start, to find the first place we ever went together and revisit it. But I’m still unsure where exactly that will be.

We explored so many beautiful places together. We traveled through South Carolina, from the highest point on Sassafras Mountain all the way to the beaches. We wandered through abandoned places in Columbia, like that old psychiatric hospital, which has since burned to the ground. We walked through the crumbling cotton mills that no longer stand. We visited state parks, each one offering a new adventure.

There’s so much to choose from. Where do I begin?

One of our trips took us to Mediaeval Times, that quirky restaurant where you watch knights battle as you eat. She was so sweet that day, full of excitement and laughter. I remember her kindness, her smile. I miss that version of her—the one who was so full of love, the one I thought would always be by my side.

We even got a camper eventually. We started camping a lot, and those trips were some of the best times we shared. We’d make passionate love beneath the stars, surrounded by the peace of nature. She was wonderful during those moments. Those memories still bring a bittersweet smile to my face.

One of the more unusual places we visited was South of the Border, that strange roadside attraction with gas stations, bizarre rides, and all kinds of weird things in between. It was such a strange place, but we made it fun. We made everything fun.

There are so many places I could start. Some of them hold a special connection. She had a dog she adored, Ralphie. I never got to meet him, but she always talked about him with such affection. We used to dream of getting a dog together—a swamp poodle, or something like it. I don’t remember the exact breed now, but it looked like Ralphie. I imagined us adopting one together after we got married, imagining what our life would look like with a dog and maybe even a baby someday.

But now, that future is gone. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again, and if I do, it won’t be because she misses me. It’ll be because she’s angry or upset about something. She’ll never reach out to me out of love. I know that now, deep in my heart.

Yet, despite that, I miss her every single day.

The next step is deciding where to begin this journey, where I’ll retrace the steps of our past. It’s the first step toward healing, and I know it won’t be easy. But I have to start somewhere.