The Shadow Garden

I've seen heartbreaks turn even the strongest into shadows. It's like everything has a duller shade. The coffee doesn't taste as good, the jokes aren't as funny, and music just sounds like noise.

It hits in weird waves. One minute I'm fine, and the next, I'm floored by a memory. Something as small as a scent or a familiar street corner can feel like a punch in the gut. It's like living with a ghost.

I've been spending a lot of time just sitting with it. Not trying to fix it or understand it, but just... feeling it. It's uncomfortable, like sitting on a cold floor in the dark. But there's something real about it, something that tells me I'm alive.

Talking to friends helps, but sometimes their words just bounce off. They mean well, but they can't crawl inside your head, you know? It's a solo journey, a personal battle with your own heart.

I've started doing things just for the sake of doing something. Like running until my lungs burn, or writing out my thoughts until the pen runs dry. It doesn't fix the heartache, but it gives it a place to go.

There's a strange calm in the aftermath of yet another shattered heart. It's like walking through a storm but not feeling the rain, seeing the chaos but not hearing the thunder. Each heartbreak chips away, leaving behind a numbness that's almost comforting.

It's not the sharp pain of the first time, or the disbelief of the second. It's quieter now, a dull ache of familiarity. The highs and lows of love lost have flattened into a landscape of muted emotions.

I find myself going through the motions. Smiling when expected, laughing on cue. But it's like watching myself from a distance, a spectator in my own life. The world moves in slow motion, and I'm caught in a loop of indifference.

There's an odd safety in this numbness. It's a shield, a barrier against the turmoil of falling and failing again. Emotions feel like echoes from a past life, and I wonder if this is just the price of too many goodbyes.

Yet in quiet moments, I catch glimpses of hope. A flicker of something raw and real, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's more to this story. But for now, I wrap myself in this cocoon of numbness, a temporary refuge from the storm of heartache.