Closure

-


 There’s something about breakups no one really talks about—

It’s not always about missing the person.
Sometimes, it’s about needing them to know what they did to you.


To understand what it cost you to keep loving while being slowly let go.

That’s what’s been haunting me the most.
It’s not that I want to go back.
I just want to be understood—


By the one I gave everything to.

I want them to read everything I’ve carried.
To feel the weight of the silence.
To sit with the truth of how much it took to keep choosing someone who wasn’t choosing me back.


Not for pity. Not for revenge.

But because I need to believe that what I gave wasn’t invisible.
That the pain I kept hidden wasn’t all for nothing.


That the time, the love, the loyalty—meant something to both of us.

I want them to know how hard I tried.
How I forgave things I shouldn't have.
How I stayed even when everything inside me was breaking.


How I convinced myself that if I just worked harder, stayed quieter, loved deeper—maybe things would return to what they used to be.

But they didn’t.
Things just faded.
And then it ended—not with clarity, but confusion. Not with warmth, but distance.

And now I’m here.


Trying to move on… with a thousand unsaid words caught in my throat.
Not because I want to go back.
But because I wanted them to say,

“You didn’t imagine it. I see what you carried. I see what I did.”


Because when someone leaves you questioning your worth…
You start questioning your whole story.

But I’m done questioning.
This is my truth.
And if they never see it…
If they never read it…
If they never understand…

Then that only proves they were never really present in the first place.


Sometimes closure isn’t a conversation.
Sometimes it’s accepting that you were enough—even when someone else couldn’t see it.


For Empress, always.

— Jaes

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Kind of Love That Breaks You

-
Image
  There’s a kind of love that’s deeper than words. The kind where, when they hurt, you’d do anything— anything —to take their place. You see them in pain, and somehow,  you  start apologizing… saying you’re sorry for what they’re going through, even though it’s not your fault. Because they don’t deserve an ounce of it. That’s the love I had for Empress. My sister. My best friend. My person. When she first fell ill, it didn’t seem serious. It was “just anemia,” they said. We all thought she’d be fine in a couple weeks— she  thought so too. But weeks went by, and she didn’t get better. I remember the day she left home to get admitted. I cried so much, I made myself sick the next day. I cried with one prayer on my lips: “God, if anything is going to happen to her, take me instead.” And I meant every word. A world without my sister wasn’t a world I wanted to live in. We argued a lot—don’t get it twisted—but no one had my back like her. No one  knew  me l...
Read more

💔 “What Would You Say to Her?”

-
Image
  — A Letter I Wasn’t Ready to Write Someone asked me a question the other day. Simple words. Soft tone. “If you had the chance to see Empress again… what would you say?” At first, I smiled. The kind of smile that escapes before your chest realizes how much it hurts to imagine. For a second, I saw her. I felt her. I pictured myself running up to her, wrapping her in the tightest hug, and never letting go. The kind of hug that says,  I’m sorry ,  I miss you , and  please don’t go again , all at once. And then, in my mind, I broke down — not just crying, but sobbing in that raw, uncontrollable way grief knows too well.   But when it came time to answer the question, I couldn’t. I stammered. My throat dried up. My words got stuck in a traffic jam of emotions I’ve never been able to fully explain.   Because how do you speak to someone who was your  life , your calm, your person… …when you know you only have a few minutes? When you know this imaginary ...
Read more

🖤 Grief Doesn’t Expire

-
Image
  🖤  Grief Doesn’t Expire I’m just 28 years old, but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything harder than trying to move on from losing my sister. And I’m not sure I ever truly will.   Grief doesn’t expire. It doesn’t clock out. It doesn’t gently fade like they say it will. Some days, I wake up thinking I’ve made progress — like I’ve learned to carry the loss a little better. But then a memory hits, or a moment breaks open, and I’m right back at the start.   For me, two of the biggest heartbreaks of my life collided. I lost Empress — my sister, my closest friend, the one person who made everything feel a little less heavy. And just a few months later, I lost the girl I thought I was going to spend forever with. A 7-year relationship, gone. And so I’ve been grieving two people at once.   It’s like my mind takes shifts between them. One day, I’m mourning my sister, trying to push through the ache. Then out of nowhere, a video of my ex shows up on my scre...
Read more