It’s not the heartbreak that screams.
It’s the silence that follows.
The way someone becomes a stranger
while their memories still live in your chest.
How they laugh with others the way they used to with you—
and you pretend it doesn’t sting.
You act okay.
You smile.
But inside, you're mourning someone who’s still alive,
just no longer yours.

I’ve seen things I can’t unsee.
I’ve held lives together
with shaking hands and quiet hope.
And I’ve walked away wondering
if I was ever really seen at all.

But here’s the logic they forget to teach:

Feeling deeply
isn’t weakness.
It’s data.
It’s memory.
It’s proof
that the world still touches you
when it tries to make you numb.

And maybe I’ll never solve the full equation.
Maybe the variables keep shifting.
But here’s what I know:

I would rather stay soft
and confused,
and tired,
and real—

than become sharp and certain
and alone.

I hate you
When you smiled, I smiled
I wanted you to be happy

I hate you
When you were successful, I cheered
I always believed in you

I hate you
When you're dressed up, I gasp 
I am taken by you yet again

I hate you
When you grew, I admired
I knew you were meant for more

I hate you
When you moved on, I stayed
I am always waiting for you

I hate you
When you faded away, I cried
I will only be a memory to you

I hate you
When you were in my life, I knew
I truly did love you 

I hate you
Despite everything, I begged 
That I could actually hate you