Updated: Aug 28, 2023
Date: August 23, 2023
Location: My Quiet Sanctuary
Mood: Hopeful
Dear Journal,
It's been a little over a month since Jacob and I said our final goodbyes. At first, the weight of our parting was suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words and memories I thought I'd never escape. The apartment seemed too large, too quiet. My phone too silent. There were days when I would play our favorite songs, letting the lyrics pull me under, my heart heavy with the weight of loss.
However, as the days melted into nights, a sensation began to creep in—unexpected, uninvited, but not entirely unwelcome. Liberation. I never thought I'd use such a word in the context of our separation, but here it is, dancing on the tip of my pen.
While I had loved Jacob with a fierceness that consumed me, I didn't realize the extent to which I'd been stifled. Like a vine, our relationship had intertwined around me, becoming my identity, my reason for existence. But now, with the vine severed, I've started to see myself for the first time in years. Not as Jacob's partner, but as an individual with dreams, desires, and an identity outside "us".
This newfound freedom has been both exhilarating and terrifying. On one hand, the world is suddenly awash with possibilities. I can relocate to that city I always talked about, or dive into that project I'd set aside, thinking it wasn't the right time. On the other, there's an emptiness, a void, where he used to be. It's a vast expanse I'm not sure how to navigate.
But for the first time in years, I feel like the captain of my ship. It's still navigating stormy seas, but there's a horizon ahead. A horizon filled with potential, growth and self-discovery. And although I never imagined sailing these waters alone, there's an undeniable thrill in steering my course, free from anchors.
Jacob was my love, my anchor. But as I've learned, sometimes even the strongest of anchors can keep you from sailing to new shores. I cherish our time, our memories, but there's a vast ocean out there, waiting to be explored. And as I set my sights on the horizon, I can't help but feel a strange mix of sadness and excitement. Because this isn't the end, it's merely a new beginning.
Hoping that someday, when the pain fades and memories are softened by time, we can look back and be thankful for the chapters we wrote together, even if our stories have diverged. Until then, to the future, to the unknown, to me.
With hope and trepidation,
Kelly R.