I didn’t ask for this storm.
After everything, I’ve been trying to stay grounded—processing the separation, keeping boundaries, focusing on healing. I’ve been careful. Respectful. Quiet, even, because I know the noise of gossip can become deafening in a tight-knit community.
But today, I found out something that cracked my chest wide open.
My ex—someone I once held close, someone who knows my heart—admitted to my friend that she had, at a party, while drunk, told people I was flirting. That I might fall for this friend. That we might become a “thing.”
What?
No. Absolutely not.
I was stunned. Betrayed. Not just because of what she said, but because she planted a seed of doubt and story that could ruin the peace I’ve worked so hard to build—not only for me but for my friend, who’s done nothing but be kind and respectful through all of this.
Why would she think that of me?
Why would she say that about me?
I haven’t jumped into anything. I’ve been trying to walk forward slowly, gently—grieving, learning, checking in with myself. My heart still aches. I’m not even in a place to think about anything new, let alone something reckless or dramatic. Yet here I am, hearing whispers about “me and her,” about intentions and relationships that do not exist.
And today, something hit me harder than all the gossip.
I woke up with a weight in my chest I couldn’t shake. Weak. Dizzy. Like my breath forgot how to stay. And I realized—it’s because I knew we were supposed to talk today. Me and her. FaceTime. Again.
And I thought… why am I doing this to myself?
I’ve never felt this before—not like this. The kind of anxiety that floods my whole body at the thought of one conversation. That’s not love. That’s not healing. That’s not healthy.
And the truth is… I’m not interested anymore.
Not in talking to someone who makes me feel like this. Not in trying to rebuild something that keeps crumbling. I’m tired of watering what doesn’t bloom.
I just wanted to heal in peace.
And now I’m trying to untangle myself from a web I never spun.
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