THE CLOSURE, I GAVE MYSELF

Author: MANISH RAI

Copyright © [2025] [Manish Rai]
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in
any form or by any means—electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise—without prior written permission
from the author, except for brief quotes used
in reviews or articles.
This is a work of fiction/non-fiction. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by [Manish Rai]

ISBN:
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

__________________________________________________

Dedicatio :- To the hearts that have loved and lost,

to the ones still searching for closure,
and to those who found it within themselves.
This book is for you

__________________________________________________

Introduction:

Closure is a strange thing. We spend so much time waiting

for someone to hand it to us—an apology, an explanation, a
final goodbye. But what if it never comes? What if the person
who broke you never looks back?

This book is about that. About learning that closure isn’t

given. It’s created. It’s about turning heartbreak into self-
love, pain into poetry, and endings into new beginnings.

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably been there—left with

unanswered questions, a love that ended too soon, and a
heart that doesn’t know how to move on. But you will. And
this book will remind you why.

Part 1: The Love That Felt

Like Forever
__________________________________________________

Love is intoxicating when it’s new. It feels like magic, like a

dream that you never want to wake up from. You believe it
will last forever. You believe they will always be yours. But
love, in its rawest form, is unpredictable.

This section is about the kind of love that makes you feel
invincible—the kind that blinds you to the possibility of an
ending.

__________________________________________________
Chapter 1: Love at First Chaos

I didn’t fall in love with you.

I collided with you—like a storm meeting the ocean.
Unpredictable. Wild. Unstoppable.

From the moment we met,

something about you felt like home.
And maybe that’s why I never questioned it.

You weren’t perfect,

but neither was I.
And yet, we made sense—
like fire and air,
feeding off each other,

never realizing
we were meant to destroy.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

The first time I saw you, the world
seemed to tilt for just a moment, as if the
universe itself had stopped to
acknowledge our meeting. I didn’t just fall
in love with you—I collided with you, like
a storm meeting the ocean. It was the
kind of force that couldn’t be controlled,
an unbridled chaos that felt both thrilling
and terrifying.
You stood there, unassuming yet
magnetic, as if you belonged to a world I
had never visited but somehow
recognized. There was something about
you that felt like home, like the smell of
old books in a library or the sound of rain
against the window—familiar and
comforting, yet mysterious. I never
questioned it. Perhaps that was my first
mistake, or maybe my greatest act of
courage.
From the beginning, we were drawn
together in ways that defied logic. You
weren’t perfect—far from it. Your flaws
were like cracks in a glass pane, yet
instead of breaking you, they let the light
in. And me? I was no better. I carried my
own set of scars, invisible yet deeply
etched into the fabric of my being. But
together, we made sense.

Like fire and air, we fed off each other.

You, with your reckless charm, always
ready to take on the world, and me, with
my quiet intensity, always looking for
something deeper.
 We were two forces of nature, too wild
to be tamed, too passionate to be
ignored. We danced on the edge of
something dangerous, something
exhilarating, something that made every
other emotion feel dull in comparison.
I remember the way you laughed—
unapologetic, full of life. It was the kind of
laughter that made people turn their
heads, not because it was loud, but
because it was genuine. And when you
looked at me, I felt seen in a way I never
had before. It wasn’t just admiration or
desire—it was understanding, as if you
could read between the lines of my
silence.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

But love like ours was never meant to be
soft. It wasn’t gentle whispers and quiet
sunsets. It was lightning in a bottle, barely
contained. We mistook the fire for
warmth, never realizing that too much of
it could consume us. And so, we burned—
brightly, fiercely, beautifully—until all that
remained were ashes.

Looking back, I wonder if we were

doomed from the start, or if we simply
loved recklessly, without a thought of
consequence. Perhaps we were always
meant to destroy, not out of malice, but
because some things are too powerful to
exist without leaving a mark. And you, my
love, left a mark so deep, I will carry it
forever.
Even now, when the storm has passed
and the ocean is calm again, I can still feel
the echoes of our chaos. And maybe, just
maybe, that’s what love is—something
wild, unpredictable, unstoppable. A force
of nature that changes everything in its
path.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 2: The Way You
Made Me Feel
You made me feel things
I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.
The way you looked at me,
as if I was the only person in the world,
made me believe in forever.
With you, every moment felt electric.
Every touch was a promise,
every laugh a memory.
I thought love was supposed to feel like
this—
like fireworks, like adrenaline,
like a rush I never wanted to come down
from.
But no one told me
that love like this
always comes with a crash.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

You made me feel things I didn’t know I

was capable of feeling. Before you, love
was just a word—something I had read
about in books, something I had seen in
fleeting moments between strangers. But
then you came along, and suddenly, love
was real. It had a heartbeat. It had a
name. It had you.
The way you looked at me, as if I was the
only person in the world, made me
believe in forever. Your gaze held
promises that were never spoken, yet I
felt them as surely as the air I breathed. I
never had to question if I mattered—
when you were near, I knew I did. You
made me feel seen, heard, understood in
ways I never thought possible.

With you, every moment felt electric. It

was as if the universe had saved all its
most brilliant colors just for us, painting
our days with hues so vivid they almost
hurt to look at. Every touch of your hand
was a spark, every whisper against my
skin an unspoken vow. The way you
laughed, uninhibited and free, made my
heart race. I didn’t just hear it—I felt it,
deep in my bones, like a song I never
wanted to end.
I thought love was supposed to feel like
this—like fireworks exploding in the night
sky, like the rush of adrenaline when
standing on the edge of something vast
and unknown. It was exhilarating,
consuming, addictive.

The Closure, I Gave M yself

I let myself get lost in it, in you, in the way

you made the world feel bigger and
smaller all at once.
But no one told me that love like this
always comes with a crash.
No one warned me that the higher you
soar, the harder you fall. That when the
laughter fades and the fireworks burn
out, all that’s left is the quiet ache of what
once was. I didn’t see the warning signs—
I didn’t want to. I let myself believe that
something so powerful, so breathtaking,
could never turn into something that
hurt.
And yet, here I am, standing in the
wreckage of what used to be, trying to
make sense of it all. Was it worth it? The
way you made me feel? The way you
made my heart race, only to leave it
shattered?

I don’t know.
But I do know this—love like ours changes
a person. And no matter how much time
passes, I will always carry a piece of it
with me. A memory. A lesson. A scar.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the way it
was meant to be.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 3: Promises in the
Dark

We made promises we never meant to break.

Maybe we truly believed in them at the time.
“I’ll always be here.”
“Nothing can change the way I feel about
you.”
“No matter what happens, we’ll find our way
back to each other.”
But words spoken in the dark
don’t always survive the light of day.
And I learned the hard way—
forever is just a word
until someone stops choosing you.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

We made promises we never meant to
break. Or maybe we truly believed in
them at the time. In the quiet of the
night, when the world felt smaller and our
hearts felt bigger, every word we
whispered felt unshakable.
“I’ll always be here.” “Nothing can change
the way I feel about you.” “No matter
what happens, we’ll find our way back to
each other.”
We spoke them like vows, our own sacred
language wrapped in warmth and
certainty. And in those moments, I
believed you. I believed in us.
But words spoken in the dark don’t
always survive the light of day.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Morning came, and with it, reality.
Promises, once solid as stone, began to
erode with time, with distance, with
things left unsaid. We held on, didn’t we?
We tried. But love is not just words—it is
choices, made again and again, even
when it’s hard. And somewhere along the
way, one of us stopped choosing.
I learned the hard way— Forever is just a
word until someone stops choosing you.
There was no dramatic ending, no final
explosion of anger or sorrow. Just the
slow unraveling, the silent understanding
that what was once everything had
become something neither of us could
hold onto anymore.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

I still remember the weight of those
promises, how they felt like home once.
And maybe, for a time, they were. But
home is not just a place—it is a feeling, a
certainty. And the moment you walked
away, I knew I could never go back.
Maybe some words are only meant for
the dark, where they can live untouched
by the truths that daylight brings. And
maybe some promises, no matter how
much we believe in them, are never
meant to last.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 4: I Saw Forever in
Your Eyes

I saw forever in your eyes.

But maybe I was only looking at my own
reflection—
seeing what I wanted to see.
I convinced myself
that you were my ending,
the last page of my story.
But now, I realize—
you were just a chapter.
A beautiful one,
but a chapter nonetheless.
And the hardest thing
was learning
that the story had to go on
without you.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I saw forever in your eyes. It wasn’t just a

fleeting thought—it was a certainty, a
quiet knowing that settled deep in my
bones. When I looked at you, I saw a
future I had never dared to imagine
before, a life written in moments shared
between just the two of us.
But maybe I was only looking at my own
reflection— Seeing what I wanted to see,
believing in a love that was never meant
to last. I filled in the blanks with hope,
mistook fleeting glances for promises, and
turned moments into something more
permanent than they were ever meant to
be.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I convinced myself that you were my

ending. The final chapter. The last page of
my story. I imagined a lifetime where you
were always there, where we would grow
old with laughter in our hearts and
memories in our hands. It was a dream so
vivid that I forgot to question if you saw
the same thing when you looked at me.
But now, I realize— You were just a
chapter. A beautiful one, filled with
moments I will cherish forever. A chapter
that taught me about love, about loss,
about the way two souls can intertwine
and then unravel just as easily.
And the hardest thing was learning that
the story had to go on without you.
At first, it felt impossible, like trying to
write a sentence with missing words, like
turning a page that refused to move. But
slowly, I understood—some stories are
not meant to have just one ending. Some
love stories are not meant to last forever,
but that doesn’t make them any less real,
any less meaningful.
I will carry our chapter with me always,
tucked between the pages of my past. But
now, I know that my story isn’t over.
There are more pages to fill, more words
to write, more love to find.
And maybe, just maybe, the best part is
still waiting to be written.

__________________________________

End of Part 1
This is where love feels the most real—
when it’s alive, burning, and full of hope.
But love that feels like magic doesn’t
always last. And sometimes, the person
we thought was our forever was only
meant to be a beautiful mistake.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Part 2: The Storm That Took Everything

__________________________________
Love doesn’t always fade gently.
Sometimes, it crashes down like a storm,
ripping through everything it once built.
This is where love turns into pain, where
the person who felt like home starts to
feel like a stranger.
This part is about the unraveling—the
fights, the distance, the quiet breaking of
something that once felt unbreakable.
__________________________________
Chapter 5: The First Goodbye

The first time we almost broke up,

I thought my world was ending.
We fought over something small,
but it felt like everything.
We yelled, we cried,
we said things we couldn’t take back.
But then, like always,
we found our way back.
I held on,
believing that love meant fighting for it.
That if we could just survive the storm,
we would be okay.
But some storms aren’t meant to be
survived.
The Closure, I Gave Myself
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

The first time we almost broke up, I

thought my world was ending.
It started with something small—
something so trivial that I can’t even
remember the details. A missed call, a
forgotten promise, a careless remark that
struck the wrong nerve. But what began
as a single spark quickly turned into a fire,
consuming everything in its path.
We stood in the middle of your
apartment, voices raised, the walls closing
in as if they, too, were bracing for the
impact. I don’t know when the yelling
turned to silence, when the distance
between us became more than just
physical. I only remember the way you
looked at me—like you weren’t sure if
you still knew me.
I remember the moment I turned to
leave, my fingers hovering over the door
handle. The weight of everything we had
built together pressed against my chest,
making it hard to breathe. And then, just
as suddenly as it had started, the storm
passed.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Like always, we found our way back.

You pulled me into your arms, whispered
apologies against my skin, and I let myself
believe they meant something. We held
onto each other like two people afraid of
drowning, convinced that if we just held
on tight enough, we could keep ourselves
from sinking.
I told myself that love meant fighting for
it. That if we could just survive the storm,
we would be okay.
But some storms aren’t meant to be
survived.
Some storms come to break things apart,
to wash away what no longer belongs, to
clear the path for something new. I didn’t
see it then. I refused to. I thought love
meant endurance, meant never letting go,
no matter how strong the winds blew.
But now, looking back, I see the truth.
That first goodbye wasn’t the end—but it
was the beginning of the unraveling. The
first crack in something I thought was
unbreakable.
And cracks, no matter how small, have a
way of spreading.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 6: The Fights That Stole
Our Love

At first, the fights were rare—

just thunder in the distance.
But then, they became louder,
more frequent,
more cruel.
We stopped listening,
only waiting for our turn to speak.
We started keeping score.
Who hurt who more?
Who was the villain this time?
We turned love into a battlefield,
and I didn’t even realize
we had already lost.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

At first, the fights were rare—just thunder

rumbling in the distance, something far
away, something that would pass. We
never thought much of them, brushing
them off like an unexpected summer
storm, convinced that the sun would
always return. And for a while, it did.
But then, the thunder grew louder.
The storms came closer, fiercer, leaving
damage in their wake. The fights weren’t
just small misunderstandings anymore.
They became routine, like a song stuck on
repeat—our words sharp, our tempers
quicker, our patience wearing thin. We
stopped listening to understand. We only
waited for our turn to speak, to defend, to
strike back.
We started keeping score, tallying up each
wound like points in a game neither of us
wanted to play. Who hurt who more?
Who was the villain this time? The
answers blurred together, lost in the
wreckage of what we once were.
Love, once soft and safe, had turned into
a battlefield. Every conversation felt like
stepping onto a minefield, unsure of
which word would set off the next
explosion. We forgot what it felt like to
hold each other without resentment, to
speak without expecting a fight.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even realize we had already lost.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

By the time the dust settled, there was
nothing left to salvage. Just two
exhausted hearts, too broken to find their
way back, too proud to admit that love
alone was no longer enough.
We didn’t lose each other all at once. It
happened slowly, fight by fight, word by
word, until there was nothing left but
silence where love used to be.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 7: You Were Here, But
Not Really

You were still next to me,

but it didn’t feel the same.
Your hands didn’t reach for mine.
Your voice sounded unfamiliar.
Your eyes—once so full of love—
now held something else.
And maybe that’s when I knew.
Not in the moment you left,
but in all the moments before,
when you were already gone.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself
You were still next to me, but it didn’t feel
the same.
The space between us stretched wider
with each passing day, an invisible
distance that neither of us spoke about
but both of us felt. I could reach out and
touch you, but it wouldn’t matter. Your
hands didn’t reach for mine anymore.
They stayed at your sides, tucked into
pockets, wrapped around a coffee cup—
anywhere but in my grasp.
Your voice sounded unfamiliar, hollow,
like an echo of someone I used to know.
We spoke in small talk, in pleasantries, in
words that filled the silence but never
really said anything at all.
And your eyes—once so full of love— now
held something else.Regret? Indifference?
Maybe even relief.
I searched for answers in them,
desperate to find something that would
make me believe we still had a chance.
But the truth was there, staring back at
me, unspoken yet undeniable.
And maybe that’s when I knew.
Not in the moment you left, not when the
door finally closed behind you, but in all
the moments before. In the quiet
goodnights without a kiss. In the way your
body leaned away instead of in. In the
way my name felt foreign on your lips.
You were already gone long before you
left.
I just wasn’t ready to see it.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 8: The Day You Chose to Leave

I remember everything.
The way you said my name,
but it didn’t sound like love anymore.
The way your voice didn’t shake
when you said,
"I don’t love you like I used to."
The way you walked away,
without looking back.
I stood there,
watching you disappear,
thinking—
this can’t be real.
But it was.
And you never came back.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I remember everything.
The morning light spilled through the
curtains, soft and golden, but there was
nothing warm about that day. The air felt
heavy, thick with all the words we hadn’t
said. I should have known it was coming,
should have seen the way you had
already started slipping away long before
the moment arrived. But love makes us
blind to the inevitable, doesn’t it?
You said my name, but it didn’t sound like
love anymore. It sounded like a goodbye
wrapped in familiarity, like something you
were trying to let go of without shattering
completely.
And then, your voice—steady,
unwavering—delivered the final blow:
"I don’t love you like I used to."
The words hit harder than I expected. My
heart should have been prepared for
them, but how do you brace yourself for
the moment your world tilts off its axis? I
searched your face for hesitation, for
regret, for anything that might tell me you
didn’t really mean it. But there was
nothing. Just certainty. Just resolve.
And then, you walked away.
Without looking back. Without a pause.
Without the weight of what we once were
slowing your steps.
 I wanted to call out your name, to say
something, anything, to make you turn
around. But I couldn’t find my voice. All I
could do was stand there, watching you
disappear, thinking—
This can’t be real.
But it was.
And you never came back.

__________________________________
End of Part 2:
This is where love turns into heartbreak.
Where the person who once made you
feel safe is now the reason you can’t
sleep at night. The worst part isn’t that
they left—it’s that they left so easily.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 Part 3: The Silence That Screamed the
Loudest
--------------------------------------------------------
After the storm comes the silence. But
this silence isn’t peaceful—it’s loud,
unbearable, filled with questions that will
never have answers.
This part is about learning to live without
them. It’s about the memories that refuse
to fade, the sleepless nights, and the
haunting realization that they’ve moved
on while you’re still stuck in the past.

--------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 9: The Quiet That Haunted Me

No more texts.
No more late-night calls.
No more “Good morning” messages
that used to start my day.
Just silence.
Thick, suffocating, endless silence.
I thought I would miss your voice.
But what I really missed
was the way your silence never used to
hurt me before.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

No more texts. No more late-night calls.
No more “Good morning” messages that
used to start my day.
Just silence. Thick, suffocating, endless
silence.
At first, I thought I would miss your voice
—the way it could calm me, the way it
made me feel like I was never alone. But
as the days stretched into weeks, I
realized that what I missed the most
wasn’t your voice at all.
It was the way your silence never used to
hurt me before.
Now, it was deafening. It echoed in the
spaces where your laughter used to live. It
followed me in the places we once called
ours. It whispered reminders of what
used to be, turning every quiet moment
into a cruel ghost of the past.
I kept checking my phone, half-expecting
your name to appear on the screen. But it
never did.
And maybe that was the hardest part—
accepting that the silence wasn’t
temporary. That this was my new reality.
That the person who once filled every
corner of my world had now become
nothing more than an empty space, a
lingering ache that refused to fade.
I tried to fill the silence with music, with
distractions, with anything that could
drown out the absence you left behind.
But nothing worked.
Because when someone leaves, it’s not
just the noise they take with them. It’s the
comfort of knowing they’re still there. It’s
the reassurance of their presence, even in
the smallest ways. It’s the certainty that,
no matter what, they’ll always come back.
But you didn’t.
And the silence that followed was the
loudest thing I had ever heard.
It crept into my mornings, where your
voice once greeted me. It lingered in the
evenings, where your warmth once kept
me safe. It filled the spaces between my
thoughts, reminding me that no matter
how much I reached for you, you were
gone.
I never realized how much sound love
carried until all of it disappeared.And
now, all I had left was the silence. And the
questions it refused to answer.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 10: Memories That
Refused to Fade

I thought time would erase you.

That one day,
I would wake up and not think of you.
But you lingered—
in the songs we used to sing,
in the places we used to go,
in the way I still reached for my phone,
expecting your name to appear.
You weren’t just a person.
You became a ghost.
And I was haunted
by a love that didn’t exist anymore

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I thought time would be the ultimate

healer. I believed that, with each passing
day, the sharp sting of your absence
would dull, and one day, I would wake up
and not think of you. It felt like that was
the only solution, the only way out of the
suffocating grip you had on my heart.
Time, I told myself, would erase
everything—the late-night talks, the
laughter, the plans we made for a future
that would never come. I thought time
would be my ally, but it wasn’t.
The truth was, time didn’t erase you. It
only buried you deeper inside me, where I
couldn’t reach, but where you remained,
untouched, unyielding. You lingered in
the most unexpected places, like the
sound of a song that used to play when
we were together.
 The melody would slip into my mind, and
suddenly, I was back in that moment,
standing beside you, your hand in mine,
the world around us quiet, save for the
hum of that song. I could almost hear
your voice singing along, off-key but full of
joy, and I would catch myself smiling
through the ache, remembering how you
laughed at my own terrible singing voice.
There were the places too, the spots that
once belonged to us. Our little corner in
that café we frequented, the park bench
where we shared secrets, or the quiet
street we walked down on those late-
night walks when it felt like the city
belonged to just the two of us. Now,
those same places felt foreign. They were
nothing more than empty reminders of
what once was.
 When I found myself walking past them,
my steps would slow, and for a brief
moment, I would hope, irrationally, that
you’d be there, sitting where you used to,
waiting with a smile that would fill the
empty space in my chest. But you never
were. The bench was just a bench. The
café was just a café. And I was left with
only the memories, clinging to me like a
second skin.
I would still reach for my phone,
expecting your name to appear on the
screen. Every time the familiar vibration
signaled an incoming message, a flicker of
hope would rush through me. I would
glance at the phone, my heart skipping a
beat, half-expecting to see your name.
But it was never you. It never was. The list
of names that would light up the screen
only reminded me of how alone I truly
was.
 I began to dread that feeling, the one
where you’d look at your phone and
realize that you weren’t important
enough anymore to receive a message.
That hope turned into a cruel joke I would
play on myself, each time growing more
painful than the last.

It wasn’t just about the messages, though.

It was about the way I still felt your
presence in everything. The way I’d laugh
at a joke, only to remember that you were
the one who taught me to see the humor
in even the dullest moments. The way I’d
sit quietly, and for a brief second, I’d
swear I could hear your voice calling out
to me, your laughter ringing in my ears
like it used to.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 There were times when I felt like I could
still feel your hand in mine, the warmth of
your touch just a memory away. It wasn’t
real, though. It wasn’t you. It was just my
mind holding onto fragments of what was
lost.

You weren’t just a person to me. You

were more than that. You became a part
of who I was, so ingrained in my thoughts
and actions that when you left, it felt like I
lost a piece of myself. You weren’t just a
memory; you became a ghost. A haunting
presence that I couldn’t shake. Every
room I entered, every corner I turned,
there you were, lingering in the air. It
didn’t matter that I knew you were gone.
It didn’t matter that I understood,
logically, that you weren’t coming back.
Emotionally, I couldn’t escape the weight
of your absence. It pressed down on me,
a constant reminder that what we had
was no more. It wasn’t just the love that
had disappeared; it was everything—the
companionship, the shared dreams, the
quiet understanding that once existed
between us.
I was haunted by a love that didn’t exist
anymore. A love that had once burned so
brightly, and now, it flickered in the dark
corners of my mind, casting shadows that
I couldn’t escape. The ghost of our love
still lingered, and no matter how much I
tried to outrun it, it followed me, inching
closer with every passing day.

There were times when I thought I had

finally let go, when I thought I was free
from the chains of the past. But then, a
song would play, or I’d walk past that
café, and the memories would come
rushing back,
vivid as ever, reminding me that you were
still there in the back of my mind, waiting.
The hardest part was not just losing you;
it was realizing that you were never really
gone.
Even though you weren’t physically
present, your memory clung to me like a
shadow. It wasn’t something I could bury,
something I could ignore. It wasn’t a
ghost I could simply banish. It was a part
of me now, a part of my story, and no
matter how much I tried to rewrite the
chapters of my life, you were always
there, between the lines, lingering just
out of reach.
And so, I lived with the ghost of us, trying
to navigate a world that no longer had a
place for you in it. I tried to move on, to
fill the void with new experiences, new
people, new memories. But they all felt
incomplete, like trying to fill a cup with
water that leaked through the cracks.
The memories of us were the cracks, and
no matter how much I tried to patch them
up, they would always be there, shaping
the person I had become.
I came to realize that maybe time wasn’t
meant to erase you. Maybe it was never
meant to make me forget. Maybe the
memories were supposed to stay, to be
carried with me as I moved forward. They
were a part of me now, just as much as
the scars you left behind.
And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Maybe it wasn’t about letting go
completely, but learning how to live with
the love that once was. A love that was no
longer present in the way I once knew it,
but still a part of who I was. Maybe, in the
end, the memories that refused to fade
were the ones that taught me how to live
without you, and how to embrace the
person I had become because of you.
And as I stood there, looking at the places
we once visited, listening to the songs we
once sang, I realized that maybe that was
enough. Maybe the memories weren’t
meant to be erased. Maybe they were
meant to remind me of what once was, of
the love that existed even though it was
gone now. Maybe, in a way, the love that
didn’t exist anymore was the love that
would forever live in the spaces between
my thoughts, in the quiet moments when
I let myself remember.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 11: You Moved On, But I Stayed
Behind

I saw you with her today.

You looked happy.
Like nothing ever happened.
Like I never even existed.
I should have looked away,
but I didn’t.
Because part of me
was still waiting—
waiting for you to look at me
the way you used to.
But you never did.
And that’s when I knew—
I was holding on to a love
that you had already let go of.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I saw you with her today.

It wasn’t planned, of course. I didn’t go
out looking for you, but the world has a
way of making you stumble upon things
you’re not ready for. I saw you from a
distance, walking hand in hand with her.
You were laughing, and your eyes shone
in that familiar way, the way they used to
when you looked at me. It was so natural,
so effortless, like you had never known
anything else. It was like nothing ever
happened between us, like the love we
shared had never existed at all.

I should have looked away. I should have

turned my back and walked in the
opposite direction. I should have let the
moment pass and kept my heart intact.
But I didn’t.
I stayed there, frozen, watching you. Part
of me—too much of me—was still
waiting, holding on to some fragile hope
that you would look at me the way you
used to. That I would catch a glimpse of
that old spark, the one that made you
smile like I was the only person in the
room, like nothing else mattered. I
watched, almost willing it to happen,
desperate for you to see me, even though
I knew, deep down, that you never would.
But you didn’t look at me. Not even once.
And that’s when I knew. The moment I
realized that all this time, I had been
holding on to a love that you had already
let go of.

I had been clinging to something that was

long gone, keeping it alive in my mind
while you had moved on, as though we
were never part of each other’s lives. I
was holding on to a ghost, a memory,
while you were walking forward into
something new, something real.
It wasn’t the first time I had seen you with
someone else, but it was the first time I
truly saw it for what it was. I had been
denying it for so long, pretending that
there was still a chance, still a piece of us
that could be salvaged. But today,
watching you so carefree with her, I
couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
You had moved on.
And I... I had stayed behind. I was stuck in
a place that no longer existed, trapped in
the echo of a love that had faded into the
past.
I had kept hoping that if I waited long
enough, you would come back, that
somehow, someway, you would realize
that what we had was worth fighting for.
But the truth was, you had already moved
on, and I had been left standing here, in
the ruins of what once was, clinging to the
hope that you would somehow return.
It hurt to admit it, but it was the reality I
had to face.
You had let go. And I was still holding on.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

I don’t know how long I stood there,

watching the two of you walk away. Time
seemed to stretch and shrink all at once,
and in those few minutes, I felt every
moment we had shared come crashing
down on me. Every word, every touch,
every laugh, all of it—it felt like a lifetime
ago, but also like it had just happened
yesterday. I wanted to scream, to call out
your name, to ask why you never looked
back, why you never seemed to care the
way I still did. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Because I knew, deep down, that you
were never going to look at me the way
you used to.
And so, I let you go.

In that moment, as painful as it was, I

knew that I had to start letting go, too.
I had been holding on to something that
had already slipped away from me, and
the more I held on, the harder it became
to move forward. But I had to. I had to let
go of the hope that we would ever go
back to the way things were. I had to stop
waiting for you to come back, because the
truth was, you never would.
It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t something that
happened in an instant. Letting go of you,
of us, felt like losing a part of myself. But
in that moment, as I watched you walk
away, I realized that I had been holding
on to a love that only I remembered. You
had moved on, and it was time for me to
do the same.
It was time to stop waiting. Time to stop
holding on.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the
hardest part of all.
Chapter 12: A Heart That No Longer Feels
I used to feel everything.
The pain. The longing. The regret.
But now?
Nothing.
I’m not happy.
I’m not sad.
I’m just… empty.
Maybe that’s what heartbreak does.

It doesn’t kill you.

It just turns you into someone
who doesn’t feel the same way
anymore.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

The Closure, I Gave Myself

I used to feel everything.
Every emotion, every moment, every
touch—it all meant something. The pain
would hit me like a wave, sharp and
overwhelming, making it hard to breathe,
but it was real. The longing would curl
around me like a constant ache, keeping
me tethered to thoughts of you, and the
regret, it was always there, lingering in
the background, reminding me of what I
could have done differently, what we
could have had if things had gone another
way.
But now?
Nothing.
It’s hard to explain the emptiness that has
settled in my chest, the way the emotions
that used to run so deep now feel like
distant echoes. I’m not happy. I’m not
sad. I’m not anything, really. I go through
the motions, each day blending into the
next, and yet, it all feels so meaningless. I
wake up, go about my day, and then go to
sleep again. It’s as if the vibrancy of life
has been drained from me, leaving only a
dull shell behind.
It’s not that I don’t care. I care, but I don’t
know how to care anymore. The weight of
everything that happened has numbed
me in a way I never thought possible. I
thought time would heal me, that one
day, I would feel whole again, but it
hasn’t. Instead, it’s just left me here,
empty, like a heart that has forgotten how
to beat the way it once did.
Maybe that’s what heartbreak does.
It doesn’t kill you, not really. But it
changes you in ways you can’t quite
understand. It takes away the parts of you
that once made everything feel so real—
those moments of passion, of laughter, of
warmth. And in their place, it leaves a
hollow space, one you can’t fill, no matter
how hard you try. It doesn’t make you
stronger. It doesn’t make you wiser. It just
makes you different. A version of yourself
that doesn’t feel the same way anymore,
someone who has been shaped by the
loss and yet, remains unable to fully
process it.

At first, I thought it was a temporary

thing. I thought the numbness would
wear off, that the rawness of the wound
would fade and eventually heal. But as
time passed, I realized that it wasn’t going
away. It wasn’t a phase. This wasn’t just a
temporary loss of feeling. This was
something permanent, something that
had altered me in ways I couldn’t reverse.
I try to remember what it felt like to feel
everything so deeply—to feel the highs
and lows that made life so intense. I try to
remember the warmth of love, the thrill
of anticipation, and the sharpness of pain
that cut to the bone. But it all feels so
distant now, like someone else’s life,
someone else’s experiences.

And it’s not that I want to go back to that.

It’s just that I miss the way it used to be,
when I could feel so strongly, when my
heart wasn’t a frozen cage of indifference.
And that’s the cruelest part of it all—the
feeling that something inside you has
died, but you’re still alive. You’re still
breathing, still moving through the
motions, but the things that once made
you human, that once made you feel
connected to the world around you, are
gone. You’re left with a void that you
can’t fill, no matter how much you try to
move on, no matter how many
distractions you surround yourself with.
I used to feel everything.
And now I feel nothing.

I’m not sure which is worse. To feel too

much or to feel too little. The pain, the
longing, the regret—it was all so
consuming, but it was real. It was proof
that I cared, that I had loved deeply
enough to be hurt by it. Now, I just move
through life, existing, but not really living.
There’s no thrill, no heartbreak, no joy.
Just an empty space where my heart used
to be.
Maybe that’s what heartbreak does.
It doesn’t kill you. It doesn’t shatter you
beyond repair. But it does take something
from you. It steals the way you feel about
the world, about yourself, about love. And
in its place, it leaves something quieter.
Something harder to recognize. You’re
not the same person anymore. And no
matter how much time passes, you’re not
sure you’ll ever feel the same again.
And maybe that’s the hardest part of all—
learning to live with a heart that no longer
feels the way it used to.

__________________________________
End of Part 3
This is where heartbreak becomes a
habit. Where the pain stops hurting and
just becomes a part of you. Where you
realize that moving on isn’t as simple as
finding someone new—it’s about finding
yourself again.

Part 4: The Fire That Burned Me Alive

--------------------------------------------------------
Pain has a way of changing people.
Sometimes, it makes you softer.
Sometimes, it turns you into someone you
no longer recognize. This part is about
anger, regret, and the self-destruction
that follows heartbreak.
When love leaves, it doesn’t just take the
person—it takes a part of you, too. And
sometimes, the only way to move forward
is to let everything burn.
Chapter 13: The Rage I Never
Showed
I should have screamed.
I should have told you how much you
broke me.
But I stayed silent.
I let the pain eat me alive,
while you walked away untouched.
I replayed every fight,
every lie,
every time you made me feel like I wasn’t
enough.
And suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore.
I was furious.
Because I deserved better.
And you knew it.
But you left anyway.
The Closure, I Gave Myself
I should have screamed.
The words were there, building up inside
me, waiting to escape, but I didn’t let
them out. I should have told you how
much you broke me, how your absence
crushed me in ways I never thought
possible. But I stayed silent. I kept it all
inside, pretending that I was fine,
pretending that I could handle it, while
the pain tore at me from the inside. It was
easier that way—easier than facing the
reality of what was happening. Easier
than confronting you, because the truth
was, I didn’t know how to express it.

I didn’t know how to make you

understand just how deeply you had hurt
me. So, I stayed quiet. I kept the rage
buried, hidden behind my silence, letting
the pain eat me alive, while you walked
away untouched, unaffected by the
damage you’d done.

I replayed everything in my mind, over

and over again. Every fight, every
argument, every harsh word that had
been thrown between us. I thought about
all the lies, the moments when I knew
deep down that you were hiding
something from me, something that
mattered.
The times you made me feel like I wasn’t
enough, like I wasn’t worth your time, like
I was just a placeholder until something or
someone better came along. And the
worst part? I let it happen. I let you make
me feel small. I let you chip away at my
self-worth, convincing myself that maybe
I was the problem. That I wasn’t deserving
of more.
But then, something changed.

The sadness I had carried for so long

began to fade, replaced by something
else. A feeling I didn’t recognize at first. A
fire that started in the pit of my stomach
and spread like wildfire through my veins.
Suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore. I wasn’t
crying over the loss of what we had. No,
that wasn’t it. The pain had been replaced
by something far more powerful.
I was furious. Furious that I had allowed
myself to believe that you were the only
one who could make me feel whole,
furious that I had wasted so much time
hoping that things would change, hoping
that you would wake up and realize what
you were throwing away.
Because I deserved better.
I deserved someone who saw me, who
appreciated me, who loved me for who I
was, flaws and all. Someone who
wouldn’t make me feel like I had to
compete for their attention, their
affection, or their respect. I deserved to
be treated with kindness, with honesty,
with loyalty. I deserved someone who
would fight for me, not someone who
would just walk away when things got
hard. And I knew it. Deep down, I always
knew it.
But you left anyway.
You walked away without a second
thought, leaving me in the wreckage of
everything we had built. And that’s what
infuriated me the most—the fact that you
could leave without even acknowledging
the weight of what you were doing,
without considering the consequences of
your actions. You left without a care,
while I was left behind, trying to pick up
the shattered pieces of my heart. You
walked away like I was nothing, like all the
love we shared meant nothing, like it was
just something to pass the time until you
decided you wanted something else.

And I was left with the aftermath.

I should have screamed. I should have
told you exactly how much you had
broken me, how much you had taken
from me. I should have made you
understand just how deeply your actions
had cut me, how much I had sacrificed for
us, how much I had given, only to be left
with nothing. But I didn’t. I kept it all
inside, trapped in a silence that I thought
would protect me, when in reality, it only
suffocated me.
Now, all I had was this rage. This burning
fury that surged inside me every time I
thought about you, every time I
remembered the way you made me feel
like I wasn’t enough. You had taken so
much, and I had given so much, but in the
end, you didn’t even care. You just walked
away.
But I was done with being silent. I was
done with carrying this pain, this anger,
on my own. It was time to stop
pretending that I didn’t deserve more. It
was time to stop accepting less than what
I was worth.
You left. And I stayed. But now, it was
time for me to leave the past behind and
take back my power. Because the rage I
felt? It wasn’t just anger. It was strength.
Strength that came from knowing that I
deserved better, and that I was finally
ready to walk away from someone who
never deserved me in the first place.
And that’s when I realized—this rage, this
fire inside me, wasn’t a weakness. It was
my redemption. It was the moment I
stopped being the broken one and started
being the one who would rise above it all.
It was the moment I finally understood
that I had nothing to prove to you
anymore, nothing to justify.
Because I was enough. And you had
known it all along, but you left anyway.
And now, I was walking away.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 14: Breaking Myself to
Forget You

I tried everything to forget you.

The late nights.
The wrong people.
The distractions that never worked.
But no matter what I did,
you were still there—
in the back of my mind,
laughing at how lost I had become.
I was drowning in the fire I set for myself.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be saved.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I tried everything to forget you.

I threw myself into the chaos of late
nights, hoping that the weariness would
exhaust my mind enough to stop the
thoughts from creeping in. I filled my days
with distractions, surrounding myself with
the wrong people, the kind of people who
didn’t ask questions, who didn’t care
about the details of who I was or who I
used to be. I tried to numb the pain, to
drown it in meaningless conversations, in
moments that didn’t matter, hoping that
they would be enough to replace the hole
you left in my chest.

But no matter what I did, you were still

there.
You were always there, lurking in the back
of my mind, a ghost that I couldn’t shake
off, no matter how hard I tried. Even in
the fleeting moments of peace, when I
convinced myself that I had finally moved
on, there you were, waiting like a shadow,
laughing at how lost I had become. It felt
like I was fighting a battle I could never
win, trying to outrun a memory that
refused to leave me. No matter where I
went, no matter how far I tried to run,
you were still there, reminding me of who
I was before you left, of who I thought I
would be when we were together.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I was drowning in the fire I set for myself.

Every distraction, every escape I tried to
create, only seemed to burn me further.
The more I tried to forget you, the more I
found myself consumed by the need to
erase you, and in that pursuit, I was only
destroying myself. I was breaking pieces
of who I was just to find the fragments of
a life that no longer had room for you.
And it was exhausting. The late nights
blurred together into a haze, the wrong
people left empty spaces inside me that I
couldn’t fill, and the distractions turned
into a never-ending cycle of false hope.
But the worst part?
I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be saved.
In the midst of all the chaos, in the middle
of the fire I had set for myself, I began to
wonder if part of me enjoyed the pain. I
had become so accustomed to it, so
intertwined with the hurt, that the idea of
being free from it felt foreign, almost
impossible. I told myself I was trying to
move on, that I was fighting to reclaim my
life, but deep down, I wondered if I was
holding on to the hurt because it was the
only thing that still connected me to you.
The fire I had set to burn away the
memories was now the very thing that
kept me warm, kept me tethered to the
past. And somehow, that felt like the only
thing I had left.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I didn’t know if I wanted to be saved. Part

of me still wanted you, wanted the person
I thought you were, wanted the future we
had once imagined together. And in that
struggle, I found myself breaking, over
and over again. I was pushing myself to
forget you, to let you go, but every
attempt only made the wound deeper.
The more I fought against the pain, the
more I realized how much I had been
consumed by it.
It was like trying to put out a fire with
gasoline, hoping that somehow it would
be enough to erase the damage, but
instead, it just made everything worse.
I tried to convince myself that I was
strong enough to let go, that I could move
on and rebuild what was broken. But
every time I thought I was getting close,
every time I thought I had finally pushed
you out of my thoughts, there you were
again, reminding me that no matter how
hard I tried, I couldn’t forget you.
I had become my own worst enemy.
But in that realization, I also understood
something else. The reason I couldn’t
forget you was not because I was weak,
but because I had loved you so fiercely, so
completely, that even in the destruction
of everything we once had, there was a
part of me that couldn’t let go of the idea
of us. And that part of me—the part that
still clung to the remnants of what we
were—was the part that was breaking.
I was breaking myself to forget you, to
erase the love we had, but no matter how
many pieces I shattered, you were still
there, in the cracks, in the memories, in
the silence.
And so I kept drowning, kept burning, not
sure if I wanted to be saved, not sure if I
could ever let go of the flames that had
consumed me.

Because as much as it hurt, as much as I

knew I was destroying myself, part of me
didn’t want to stop. I wasn’t sure if I
could.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 15: The Truth I Refused to See

Maybe we were never meant to last.

Maybe we were only meant to teach
each other something.
I learned that love shouldn’t feel like
suffering.
That the right person doesn’t make you
question
your worth.
I spent so long blaming you,
hating you,
wishing you’d hurt the way I did.
But now I see—
I wasn’t mad at you.
I was mad at myself
for not leaving
the first time you made me feel small.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

Maybe we were never meant to last.

Maybe, somewhere deep down, we were
only meant to teach each other
something, something far greater than
love itself. I used to hold onto the idea
that we were meant to be forever—that
the connection we had was supposed to
be unbreakable, that it was destined to
endure. But now, as the dust settles and
the pain begins to fade, I realize that
maybe we were never supposed to last.
Maybe we were just two people crossing
paths for a moment, meant to show each
other truths we were too blind to see at
the time.
I learned that love shouldn’t feel like
suffering.
I had confused pain for passion, hurt for
love. I had convinced myself that love was
supposed to be hard, that it was normal
for it to come with moments of sacrifice,
doubt, and misery. I thought that if it
didn’t hurt, it wasn’t real. But that’s not
love. Love shouldn’t make you feel like
you’re constantly walking on broken glass,
like you’re waiting for the next heartbreak
to happen. Real love—true love—doesn’t
require suffering. It doesn’t demand that
you lose pieces of yourself just to hold on
to someone else. I learned that, but only
after everything had fallen apart.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

The right person doesn’t make you

question your worth.
I spent so much time looking for
validation from you, waiting for you to
confirm that I was good enough, that I
was worthy of your love. I allowed your
actions to define how I saw myself. If you
were distant, I thought I was too much. If
you were cold, I thought I was too little. I
kept telling myself that I wasn’t enough,
and I let your behavior be the measure of
my value. But the truth is, the right
person never makes you question your
worth. The right person shows you that
you are enough, just as you are, without
any need for proving it.
I spent so long blaming you, hating you,
wishing you’d hurt the way I did.
For months, I carried that burden—the
anger, the bitterness, the desire for you to
feel the same pain I was feeling. I wanted
you to hurt, to understand the depth of
the wounds you had left in me, to
experience the hollow emptiness I felt
every day. I thought that if you suffered
the way I had, it would somehow make
everything better, make me feel like
justice had been served. I spent so long
blaming you, thinking you were the one
who had wronged me, thinking that you
were the reason for my pain. But now, as I
look back, I realize that the person I was
really angry at wasn’t you.
It was me.
I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself.
I was mad at myself for staying, for
allowing myself to be mistreated, for
accepting less than I deserved. I was mad
at myself for not leaving the first time you
made me feel small, for not recognizing
the red flags, for thinking that your love—
if you could even call it that—was
something I needed to survive. I was mad
at myself for ignoring the truth that was
staring me in the face, for believing that
things could change, for holding on to the
hope that you would become the person I
wanted you to be, instead of accepting
you for who you really were.
And in that anger, I found the clarity I had
been searching for all along. The truth I
had refused to see was that I had been
my own worst enemy. I had let myself get
lost in the idea of love, in the fantasy of
what we could have been, and in the fear
of being alone.
But in doing so, I had forgotten the most
important lesson of all—that I deserve to
be loved, respected, and cherished. I
deserve someone who sees me for who I
am and values me, not someone who
makes me question my worth or makes
me feel invisible.
I was mad at myself because I had stayed
in a place that was toxic, convinced that I
needed you to be whole. But the truth
was, I didn’t need you. I never needed
you. I needed to learn how to love myself,
to trust myself, to believe that I was
enough without your approval. I needed
to see that the only person responsible
for my happiness was me.
And now I see—finally, I see. I wasn’t mad
at you. I was mad at myself for staying in
something that was never meant to be,
for allowing myself to become a shadow
of who I was meant to be.
But now, I’m done with blaming. I’m done
with hating. It’s time to stop looking back,
to stop wishing for something that was
never mine to keep. Because the truth is, I
don’t need you to move on. I need to
move on from the version of myself that
let you define me.
And I’m finally ready to let go.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 16: Burn It Down

I used to want closure.

I used to want you to come back,
to explain why you left,
to apologize for the way you broke me.
But now?
I don’t need it.
I don’t need you.
I don’t need answers.
Some stories don’t get a perfect ending.
Some bridges need to burn.
And maybe,
just maybe,
the only closure I need
is knowing
I’m finally done waiting for you.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I used to want closure.

For so long, I held onto the hope that one
day, you would come back, that you
would explain everything—the reasons
why you left, why you chose to walk
away, why you didn’t fight for us. I
thought that if I could just get those
answers, if you could just apologize for
the way you broke me, I could somehow
heal, somehow move on from all the
wreckage you left behind. I wanted
closure, as if your words could fix what
was broken, as if your explanations could
make sense of the chaos that had become
my life after you were gone.
I used to want all of that.
But now?
Now, I don’t need it. I don’t need you. I
don’t need answers.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that
closure isn’t something that can be given
to you by someone else. It’s not
something that can be found in the words
of an apology or in the explanation of a
broken promise. Closure doesn’t come
from others; it comes from within. And I
finally understood that. The truth is, I
don’t need you to come back and fix
things. I don’t need your validation or
your remorse. What I need is to let go—of
you, of the past, and of the idea that I
needed anything from you to move
forward.
Some stories don’t get a perfect ending.
Not every chapter wraps up neatly. Not
every love story gets a fairy-tale
conclusion. Some relationships end in
silence, with no final words, no grand
gestures, no apologies. And that’s okay.
Life doesn’t always give you the closure
you want, the resolution you crave. Some
things end without a reason, without a
goodbye. And

sometimes, you have to accept that. You

have to accept that some stories are
meant to be messy, to be unfinished, to
leave you with questions that will never
be answered. Some endings don’t come
with closure—they just come with the
need to move on.
Some bridges need to burn.
There are moments in life when you
realize that some things should be left
behind. Some relationships, some ties, are
never meant to be mended. And those
bridges? They need to burn. It’s painful,
yes, but necessary. Because the truth is,
not every connection is meant to last. Not
every person you meet is meant to stay in
your life forever. Sometimes, you have to
let go, even if it means watching
everything you built crumble to the
ground. Sometimes, the only way to truly
heal is to let the past go up in flames and
turn your back on everything that held
you down.
And maybe, just maybe, the only closure I
need is knowing I’m finally done waiting
for you.
For so long, I kept waiting, holding out
hope that you would return, that you
would come back and make everything
right. I thought that somehow, you would
see the pain you caused and realize that
you had left a hole in my life that only you
could fill. But I see it now. I don’t need
you to come back. I don’t need you to fix
anything. The truth is, I’ve spent far too
long waiting for a version of you that
doesn’t exist anymore.
I’m done waiting.
And that, right there, is the closure I
needed all along. The moment I stopped
waiting for you to return, for you to make
things right, was the moment I found my
peace.
 The moment I let go of the idea that you
were the key to my healing, the moment I
stopped needing answers from you, was
the moment I set myself free.

I don’t need anything from you anymore. I

don’t need you to fix what’s broken. I
don’t need to hear you apologize or
explain why you left. I don’t need to wait
for you to come back, because I’m no
longer waiting.
And in that freedom, I found my closure.
I burned down the bridges, not because I
wanted to hurt you, but because I needed
to stop holding onto something that was
never meant to last. And now, I’m finally
ready to walk away, to move forward, and
to embrace the person I am becoming.
No more waiting. No more hoping. No
more looking back.
I’m done.

End of Part 4
This is the breaking point. The moment
when you realize that healing isn’t about
moving on—it’s about letting go. It’s
about destroying the version of you that
still loves them and becoming someone
new.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 Part 5: The Love That I Found in Myself

At the end of it all, healing doesn’t come

from finding someone new. It comes from
finding yourself. This part is about self-
love, peace, and the quiet realization
that you never needed them to feel
whole.
Because the person who saves you is
never the one who left. It’s you.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 17: Learning to Be Alone
At first, the silence felt unbearable.
The empty bed,
the unanswered messages,
the spaces they once filled—
all of it felt like a wound that refused to
close.
But then, something changed.
One day, I woke up and didn’t reach for
my phone.
I made coffee and drank it alone,
and it didn’t feel lonely.
I started enjoying my own company.
And that’s when I realized—
being alone is not the same as being
empty.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

At first, the silence felt unbearable.

The absence of you was like a constant
ache in my chest. The bed, once shared,
now felt too wide, too cold. Your side of
the pillow was untouched, and I could still
smell the faint trace of your presence
lingering in the air, like a ghost that
refused to leave. The silence echoed
through the empty spaces you once filled
—our conversations that never happened
anymore, the laughter that had faded into
memory, the messages I waited for but
never received. It was as if every inch of
my world had become a wound, raw and
exposed, refusing to close, refusing to
heal.

But then, something changed.

It wasn’t immediate. It didn’t happen
overnight. But one day, I woke up, and
the first thing I did wasn’t reach for my
phone, hoping to see a message from you
that would somehow make everything
feel normal again. I didn’t check to see if
you had left me any last-minute
reminders or words of comfort. No.
Instead, I woke up, stretched, and realized
that I didn’t need to start my day with you
in it anymore. The phone stayed on the
nightstand, untouched, and for the first
time in a long time, I wasn’t searching for
something outside of myself to fill the
empty space.
I made coffee and drank it alone, and it
didn’t feel lonely.
 At first, it felt strange. The quiet was
almost too much to handle, but as I
sipped the warm coffee, something
shifted inside me. It wasn’t that I didn’t
miss you—it wasn’t that the absence of
you didn’t still sting a little. But as I sat
there, alone but not lonely, I started to
realize something important. I was okay. I
could enjoy the simple moments, the
small things that I had neglected while I
was wrapped up in the constant need for
companionship, for connection, for
validation from someone else.
I started enjoying my own company.
There was something liberating about it.
No one to answer to, no expectations to
meet, no pressure to constantly give parts
of myself away. I could just be. I could sit
in the quiet, embrace the stillness, and
find comfort in being with myself.
 I took walks without needing company,
read books without distractions, made
decisions based on what I wanted, not
what would make someone else happy. I
rediscovered parts of myself that I had
forgotten—parts that had been buried
beneath the weight of a relationship that
no longer existed.
And that’s when I realized—being alone is
not the same as being empty.
I used to think that being alone meant
something was missing, that there was a
void that needed to be filled. But now, I
see it differently. Being alone doesn’t
mean being incomplete. It doesn’t mean
there’s something wrong with me or that I
need someone else to make me whole.
Being alone is an opportunity to
reconnect with who I truly am, without
distractions, without the need to
compromise myself for the sake of
someone else. It’s a time for growth, for
healing, for learning how to stand on my
own two feet and trust that I am enough,
just as I am.
For so long, I feared loneliness. I thought
it was something I couldn’t bear,
something that would break me. But now,
I see that loneliness is not the enemy. It’s
not something to run from. It’s simply a
reflection of me, of my own thoughts, my
own heart, and my own soul. It’s a chance
to get to know myself in a way I never did
before.
And now, I’m not afraid of being alone. I
embrace it. I find peace in it. Because I
know now that being alone doesn’t mean
being lost. It just means I’m finding my
way back to myself.
And that, in itself, is enough.
Chapter 18: The Moment I Stopped
Missing You

It didn’t happen all at once.

There was no grand moment of
realization,
no dramatic scene of closure.
One day, I heard our song,
and I didn’t feel anything.
One night, I walked past the place we
called ours,
and I didn’t stop.
One morning, I woke up,
and you weren’t the first thing on my
mind.
That’s when I knew.
I had let you go.
And I was free.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

It didn’t happen all at once.

There was no grand moment of
realization, no dramatic scene where
everything finally clicked into place. It
wasn’t like one day I woke up and
suddenly, it was all gone. There was no
sudden wave of understanding, no
flashing neon signs telling me that it was
over. The process of letting go was slow—
almost imperceptible at first—like the
gradual shift of seasons or the way a
wound heals, little by little, without you
even noticing. It was a quiet, steady
unraveling of what I had held onto for so
long.

But then, one day, I heard our song, and I

didn’t feel anything.
I remember it vividly—the first time I
heard it after everything. Our song. The
one that used to make my heart race, the
one that brought back a flood of
memories—the laughter, the
conversations, the promises we made to
each other. It used to be a trigger for
longing, for pain, for wishing things had
been different. But when the first few
notes started to play, something strange
happened. I didn’t feel that familiar tug at
my heart. I didn’t feel the old ache, the
longing, the sadness that used to come
rushing in with the melody. Instead, I
felt… nothing. It was just a song, no
different from any other. And in that
moment, I realized something profound: I
had finally stopped missing you.
 The Closure, I Gave Myself

One night, I walked past the place we

called ours, and I didn’t stop.
It used to be that every time I passed by
that place, I couldn’t help but look. I’d
stop, stand there for a moment, and
remember the times we spent together—
our laughter echoing in the hallways, the
late-night talks, the small gestures that
once meant everything. I’d feel the
weight of the past pressing down on me,
the memories of us in that space holding
me hostage, never allowing me to move
forward. But that night was different. I
walked right past it. My feet carried me
forward without hesitation, without a
second glance, without that familiar urge
to stop and look back.
And for the first time, I realized I didn’t
need to. I wasn’t tethered to that place
anymore.
One morning, I woke up, and you weren’t
the first thing on my mind.
I had gotten used to it—waking up and
immediately reaching for my phone,
scrolling through messages, hoping to
hear from you, hoping that somehow, you
would be there. It became a routine, a
reflex, something I didn’t even have to
think about. You were always the first
thought in my mind, the one thing that
occupied every corner of my waking
hours. But that morning, when I opened
my eyes, you weren’t there. You didn’t
occupy my thoughts. Instead, it was just
me—just my own thoughts, my own day,
my own life unfolding in front of me. And
in that quiet, simple moment, I realized
that I had moved on. You had faded from
the center of my world, and that space—
once filled by you—was now mine to fill
with whatever I chose.
That’s when I knew.
I had let you go.
And I was free.
There was no dramatic moment, no grand
finale. There were no tears or final
confrontations. It just… happened.
Gradually, quietly, like the end of a
chapter that I had forgotten to mourn.
The pain had dissolved, the longing had
faded, and I was no longer waiting for
something that would never come. I was
free from the weight of the past, free
from the shadow of what could have
been. I didn’t need closure, I didn’t need
answers, and I didn’t need you.
I had finally let go, and in doing so, I had
found freedom.
Freedom to be me. Freedom to move
forward. Freedom to embrace the future
without the baggage of the past holding
me back.
And that, I realized, was enough. It was
everything I needed.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

Chapter 19: Loving Myself the Way You
Never Did

I used to look for love in you.

In your words,
your touch,
your presence.
But now I see—
the love I needed was inside me all
along.

So I started treating myself the way I

once wished you would.
I forgave myself for staying too long.
I stopped apologizing for being too
much.
I embraced the parts of me
you made me feel ashamed of.
I became my own home.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

 The Closure, I Gave Myself

I used to look for love in you.

In the way you said my name, hoping it
would sound like a promise. In your
words, which I clung to, believing they
were the validation I needed. In your
touch, searching for comfort, for
reassurance, for the connection that
would make me feel whole. In your
presence, thinking that being close to you
would somehow fill the empty spaces
inside me.
I sought love in you because I thought you
were the answer. I thought that if I could
just be loved by you, everything else
would fall into place. But what I didn’t
realize was that the love I needed—the
love that would heal me, that would make
me whole—was never going to come
from you. It was always inside me, waiting
for me to find it, waiting for me to give it
to myself.
But now I see—the love I needed was
inside me all along.
The moment I stopped looking for
someone else to fill the void in me, I
discovered something I had been blind to
for so long. The love I craved was never
dependent on anyone else. It wasn’t
something you could give or take away. It
was something I had to give to myself. I
had to learn to love myself, to value
myself, to nurture the parts of me that I
had ignored in search of validation from
others. The love I needed wasn’t out
there; it was right here, within me.
So I started treating myself the way I once
wished you would.
I stopped waiting for you to treat me with
kindness, with care, with respect. I
stopped waiting for you to acknowledge
my worth, to see me for all that I was.
And instead, I became the one to do that
for myself. I started listening to my own
needs, tending to my own heart, and
prioritizing my own well-being. I started
showing up for myself in ways that I had
longed for you to show up for me. I
became my own source of love, my own
source of comfort.
I forgave myself for staying too long.
I used to blame myself for all the
moments I stayed when I should have
walked away. I blamed myself for not
leaving sooner, for allowing myself to be
hurt over and over again. I carried the
weight of regret, thinking I had failed
myself. But now, I see that I did the best I
could with what I knew at the time. I
forgave myself for staying too long, for
holding on to something that wasn’t
meant for me. And in that forgiveness, I
found peace.
I stopped apologizing for being too much.
For so long, I shrank myself to fit into your
expectations. I apologized for being too
loud, too passionate, too demanding. I
tried to become someone else, someone
smaller, someone easier to love, in the
hope that you would finally see my worth.
But now, I understand that I am not
something to be apologized for. I am not
something to be minimized. I am not “too
much.” I am exactly what I’m meant to be
—bold, strong, complex, and
unapologetically me.
I embraced the parts of me you made me
feel ashamed of.
There were parts of me that you didn’t
understand, parts that you criticized or
tried to change. I hid them, tried to
suppress them, thinking that if I could just
be more of what you wanted, you would
love me more. But now, I embrace all of
me—every flaw, every imperfection,
every piece of me that once felt like
something to be ashamed of. I learned
that my quirks, my complexities, and my
uniqueness are what make me beautiful.
And I no longer need your approval to see
that.

I became my own home.

For so long, I sought comfort in others,
hoping that someone would be the safe
place I needed. I longed for someone to
be my refuge, to be my shelter from the
storms of life. But what I’ve learned is
that I am my own home. I am the one
who can provide the love, the comfort,
and the stability I need. I am the one who
can offer myself the peace and warmth
I’ve always longed for. And with that
realization, I stopped searching for a place
outside myself to feel whole.
Now, I am enough. I am whole. I am
loved.
And it’s all because I learned to love
myself the way I once wished you would.

Chapter 20: The Love That Saved Me

I thought love was supposed to complete
me.
That I needed someone else
to fill the empty spaces inside me.
But love isn’t about finding someone
else.
It’s about finding yourself.
And in the end,
it wasn’t you who saved me.
It was me.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

The Closure, I Gave Myself

I thought love was supposed to complete
me.
For so long, I believed that love was the
missing piece, the thing that would make
everything fall into place. I thought that if
I could just find the right person, if I could
just be loved in the way I craved, I would
finally feel whole. I imagined that love
was the answer to all my problems, the
solution to every wound, the key to
unlocking happiness. I thought that love
would fill the empty spaces inside me—
the spaces that felt too vast, too hollow,
too difficult to overcome. I thought I
needed someone else to fill those gaps, to
make me feel like I mattered, like I wasn’t
alone in this world.
But love isn’t about finding someone else.
As I walked through the journey of
heartbreak and healing, I came to
understand something I never thought
possible: love isn’t about someone else
completing me. Love isn’t about seeking
validation from others or relying on
someone else to make me feel worthy.
It’s about discovering the love that
already exists within me. It’s about
learning to be enough for myself, learning
to embrace who I am, flaws and all, and
realizing that I don’t need anyone else to
fill the empty spaces because those
spaces were never empty in the first
place. They were just waiting for me to fill
them with self-love, acceptance, and
understanding.

It’s about finding yourself.

True love, I realized, starts within. It starts
when you learn to love the person you
are without needing anyone to define
you, without relying on someone else’s
approval or affection. It’s when you
become your own source of strength, of
comfort, of joy. Finding yourself is not
about discovering a perfect version of you
—it’s about accepting all of you,
embracing every part of your journey, and
understanding that you are worthy of
love, simply because you exist. The love I
needed wasn’t something I had to search
for outside of me. It was always there,
waiting for me to recognize it, to nurture
it, and to finally let it grow.
And in the end, it wasn’t you who saved
me.
For so long, I believed that it was you who
would fix me, who would make
everything okay again. I thought that if
you came back, if you loved me again, I
would finally feel whole, finally feel at
peace. But the truth is, it wasn’t you who
saved me. It wasn’t your love that healed
me or your presence that filled the gaps.
The truth is, I saved myself. I was the one
who had to heal, the one who had to
rebuild, the one who had to find peace
within my own heart. It wasn’t your love I
needed—it was my own.

The Closure, I Gave Myself

It was me.
I was the one who picked myself up from
the wreckage, who learned to stand
again, who found the courage to move
forward without you. I was the one who
learned to forgive myself, to stop
apologizing for my mistakes, to stop
blaming myself for things that were out of
my control. I was the one who found
strength in my own heart, resilience in my
own soul, and love in my own arms. It
wasn’t you who made me strong—it was
me. It wasn’t you who made me whole—
it was me. I was the one who saved me all
along.
And with that realization, I understand
now that the love I needed was always
inside me.I just had to find it. And now
that I have, I am stronger, freer, and more
at peace than I ever thought possible.
End of Part 5
This is the real ending—not the one
where they come back, not the one
where you stay broken forever, but the
one where you heal.
The most powerful love story is the one
you write for yourself. It's not about
waiting for someone to fix you, but
about discovering that you have the
strength to heal and move forward on
your own. In the end, you realize that
the love you needed was always inside
you. You are the hero of your own story,
and your journey toward healing is the
greatest love story of all.
THE END