Damn right, it’s about time to move on.
It’s been almost seven months since the judge declared my marriage over — sealed, final, no turning back.
I’ve lived through most of the mourning phases — and yeah, I’ll admit, those weren’t my finest moments.
Countless nights I cried myself to sleep, drowning in heartbreak.
It took everything I had just to plaster on a big, fake smile after that hurricane ripped through my life.
Waking up each day, forcing myself to pretend I was curious, excited about what the future might hold — when inside, all I felt was numb.
Pretending the storm never shook me — especially in front of those who cared.
Forcing smiles around family and best friends, just to spare them pity and worry.
Desperately hiding the truth: I’ve lost all desire.
Dreams that once burned bright now feel like distant ghosts.
Simple acts — getting out of bed, stepping outside — lose their meaning.
Food, my old comfort, tastes bland, uninspiring.
Sometimes I skip meals just because I don’t care anymore.
Leaving the house feels like torture, yet returning to my room offers little solace.
Days blend together locked away, disconnected from the world.
Avoiding new people because I refuse their pity.
Bitterness shadows my thoughts — especially when it comes to love, relationships, and marriage.
I feel like a damaged good, broken beyond repair.
Hatred for myself grows louder than ever.
I tread carefully when anyone new shows interest — a vow made to stay single, to protect what little remains of my heart.
Social events drain me; the questions I dread hang in the air like poison.
Lonely — even in the loudest, most crowded rooms.
Believing, deep down, I’m not good enough.
That happiness isn’t meant for me.
But now — after seven months — it’s time.
Time to MOVE ON.
Stop drowning in regrets over what I cannot change.
That chapter is closed.
Sealed.
Locked away for good.
BISMILLAH — here’s to new beginnings.
Here’s to finding light after the darkest storms.
