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.