Part IV — Beneath The Skin
- Aug 17
- 1 min read
I wish I could say I handled it gracefully. That I let go with poise, a soft exhale, maybe even a smile. Instead, the dreams cracked first. Then the truth leaked through. And suddenly, I was holding a love that was heavier than both my arms and my denial combined.
I wanted it to work. God, I wanted it enough to build metaphors around it. But wanting is not a superpower, and hope is not structural support. Reality kept knocking on the walls of my imagination, and the walls started answering back with splinters.
This is the part they never warn you about. The quiet unraveling. The moment you realize you’re losing someone you never truly had. The hurt that doesn’t scream just settles under your skin and waits.
I kept telling myself I could hold it together. That if I just loved harder, deeper, smarter, it would be enough. But love is not a currency that buys miracles. And the truth? Well… the truth was louder than the story I kept trying to write.
This was where it broke. With the slow ache of stepping away from someone who felt like home, because staying would cost whatever pieces of me I had left.
And I wish I could pretend I didn’t see it coming. But I did. And it still wrecked me anyway.
Beneath the skin, the truth keeps all its sharpest things.