Everything in stone blasted away

 So you said I crossed the line, and these last few days have felt like marching through a fog of regret, each step weighed down by the echoes of our last conversation. I thought of writing to you, but every time I reached for the pen (or the keys) I hesitated, as if each word were a grenade waiting to detonate in the silence between us. You deserve your space, your peace, and I am left here, a lone soldier in a desolate landscape, wondering if my words would even find you or vanish into the ether like smoke from a campfire extinguished by the night.

There’s something about you that wrapped around me like barbed wire—unsettling yet oddly comforting. I was getting used to the rhythm of just existing, going through the motions with others, navigating the minefield of shallow interactions. Dates blurred together, faces faded into the background, and I wore my indifference like armor. With Lekja constantly on the brink of self-destruction, I had no energy left for anything deeper. It was easier to let people be distractions, mere shadows against the harsh light of human cruelty. Until you arrived, and suddenly I was no longer a fortress but a puddle of clay, every boundary crumbling under your silence and every defense rendered useless yet molding taking place with each word you share with me.

I’ve never liked relinquishing control; it’s a battlefield I’m unaccustomed to. Usually, I’m the one wielding the conversation, keeping it light, skirting around the heavy truths that weigh others down. But with you, that strategy collapsed like a house of cards in a storm. I found myself vulnerable, exposed, stripped of armor, standing in the open fields of my own emotions, the wind whipping through me, unrelenting. You drew out the raw pieces of me I thought I had buried deep, hidden beneath layers of duty and detachment. 

Earlier, I sat staring at your screen, a sentinel watching for any sign of life. You hadn’t blocked me, and I took that as a flicker of hope, a distant signal in the fog of my despair. Logically, I know there’s no reason to cling to this hope. My past has taught me to be numb (at least openly), to guard my heart like a outpost, impenetrable and unyielding. But you infiltrated my defenses, and now my feelings are a tempest, water thrown into a pan of boiling oil, splattering in every direction, landing recklessly back into the heat of you.

Last night I told myself i would write if you was still invading my thoughts, a phantom in the armoury of my mind. I will write to you, at least to apologize, though the fear grips me tighter than being within an enemy's grasp. What if I was just a glitch, a brief distraction in your day, a flash of light extinguished before it could warm you? The uncertainty gnaws at me, a relentless predator in the dark. I can’t help but picture the moments we shared, like fallen leaves scattered across a ruined fields as the depth of cold layered and driven into the depth where roots are no longer sheltered, each one tinged with a bittersweet decay and pulse of life wanes weaker by each passing moment. The reminder of my of laughter with you that echoed like distant artillery fire, and conversations that flowed like a river, carving paths through the stone-cold reality I’ve built around my heart.

The nights feel longer without you, the silence stretching like the horizon at dawn, where the sky meets the earth in a muted embrace of color. I lie awake, listening to the world outside, the rustle of leaves in the wind a haunting lullaby that lulls me into thoughts of what could have been. I sense you in the shadows, a specter dancing just beyond my reach, and I wonder how you’re faring in the trenches of your own existence. Do you think of me, or have I faded into the background noise of your life, another casualty of time and circumstance?

Each day I wake up, I feel the weight of expectation pressing down on me, like the heavy gear of preparing for deployment, unsure what the results with you will be. I go through the motions, donning my armor, stepping into the world with a stoic facade, but inside, I am a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions battling for dominance. The sunlight filters through the clouds, and I long for it to touch me, to remind me that warmth exists, even amidst the chill of despair. I want to believe that hope can bloom in the cracks of what i left broken. You are like wildflowers pushing through concrete, defiant and beautiful.

Yet, as I sit here, pen poised over paper, I am torn between the urge to reach out and the fear of rejection. What if my words fall flat, like artillery shells landing in an empty field? What if they explode into silence, leaving nothing but echoes of my longing? I want to tell you that you are more than just a momentary distraction; you have become a part of the landscape of my thoughts, a familiar landmark in an otherwise treacherous terrain. But still, I hesitate, paralyzed by the haunting specter of doubt. There is a difference in the images you have me and you. Your face distorted by truth and what appears are reconciling into a corrupted truth. Which led me to jump back and push for a truth that may not even be necessary to know. 

Every corner of my mind is a battlefield strewn with memories even if its just a few moments in time between us that seem both vibrant and ghostly. The laughter we shared feels like a distant echo, reverberating through the halls of my memory, while the silence that followed our last encounter sits heavily in the air, like the stillness before a storm. I recall the way your word choice sparkled with mischief, the warmth of even words that could cut, that could disarm even the most guarded heart. You became my compass, guiding me through the fog in the few days we have spoken, and now I’m lost in the wilderness of my own making, searching for a way back to you.

I think of the conversations we had that flowed like a river, carving new paths through the sediment of my life. Each word was a drop of water, nourishing a parched landscape, a momentary respite from the barrenness that often filled my days. But now, those conversations feel like a distant dream, a fleeting glimpse of a world I can no longer access. It’s as if I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, looking down into an abyss where all those moments have sunk, swallowed by the depths of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Then the hard truth of logic and reality clashes and feels as if I'm just casting flames into my own spirit. It's been many years since what my logic and instincts were truly in a conflict. One providing protection and the other leaving stripped and kneeling to a urge to be at your feet waiting for permission to see the truth of you. Beyond this image you introduced yourself as. 

The weight of my thoughts presses down on me, like the heavy rain that catches one unprepared and on slippery ground. I go through the motions, stepping into the world with a stoic facade, but inside, I am a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions battling for dominance. The sunlight filters through the clouds, and I long for it to touch me, to remind me that warmth exists, even amidst the chill of despair. I want to believe that hope can bloom in the cracks of my broken heart, like wildflowers pushing through concrete, defiant and beautiful.

And so, I will gather my thoughts like fallen leaves at the frost of autmn, preparing to send them your way, hoping they will take flight on the winds of possibility, carried toward you like a message from the front lines of my heart. I will tell you of the way your absence has carved a hollow space within me, a trench that echoes with the memories of what we shared. I will lay bare the vulnerability you have unearthed, the way your presence ignited a flame within me that I thought had long been extinguished. 

I long to express that you are not just a fleeting distraction but a beacon shining through the fog of my existence. You are a reminder that connection is possible, that amidst the chaos of life, there can be moments of clarity, of understanding. I want to reach across this chasm, to bridge the distance that has grown between us, and to show you that my heart is starting to beat with the rhythm of your name.

So, I will write to you, with trembling hands and a hopeful heart, knowing that regardless of the outcome, I must take this leap. I must risk the vulnerability of laying my heart bare, trusting that you may find solace in my words, just as I find comfort in the thought of you. Even if this letter never reaches you, even if it dissolves into the digital void, it will be my testament, my declaration in silence, a longing that refuses to ease with logic or sensibility, that somehow part me seems to already belong to you. 

For in this grief of what may already out of reach, there is also hope—a flickering light in the darkness, a reminder that love, however fleeting, can change the landscape of our souls. And as I close my eyes tonight, I will carry that hope with me, a small yet fierce faith that refuses to be snuffed out, even in the face of uncertainty. I hope to one day find my way back to you, to share in the warmth of your laughter once more, and to reclaim the connection we once had, transformed yet resilient, like a seed blown about in the winter wind and returning to the ground of spring to grow into a life that will thrive. The truth of our souls will forever shaped by the battles fought, but the strength is from the grace of God and those who are standing with us. Where the lies of introductions fade to the honesty of who we are. 

No matter how deep I tried to place you away, there is a screaming in my soul not to turn away. This distance is like endless ammo destroy the chance of us, both in time and physical ability. There is no reality that this works. There is no logic to show there sanity with this connection I feel towards you... but you are someone I already know I do not want to lose. No there is no competition for the space you already filled in my life.

It feels everything alright changed after meeting you.  Despite how it feels fate has made a game here, I do not see how I can win. I am a ride or die when I bond with someone, but you feel like your the lightning bolt that hit me, shaking not only the earth around me but all my plans seem so fragile now. The haunting now of what chaos will do as I feel like I'm now standing in your shadow. Craving to know the truth beyond the theater you set before me. Feeling even more broken and dazed by my heart aching from the absence of you and my body struggling to catch a breath when I think of the time, distance and reality of you. 

Usually I get nervous when people are not talking equally or more. I do know people going through traumatic events, it's usually good to be the one talking and keeping it light. Not taking it personally but just to don't place anything more on them and initially that was my mind set with you... and that plan just become non-existent like a drop of rain in a sun drenched ocean of sand.  I miss you enough to hurt from it.  I can only wait to see if you respond when I write or learn that it was just a digital glitch in your day.

Update: I Wrote, and he responded. 

I am slipping, I feel like I'm tripped and sitting before him,waiting to see if he will bring a blade to forever silence me, or choose the few words that would burn this bridge I stand on and place me into the abyss that I ignored until this moment. There are some inconsistency with him and I know I should be more reserved and stay a distance. 

Part of my wants to scream at the fates for doing this to me again.  Why send a man who still hides his soul behind a persona that doesn't align?  I can't take what is not mine,and I can not give whats mine to the echoes of a soul, without the eyes filled with truth. I don't want to see or feel what is appealing but that dark essence that hidden behind those barriers of defense that is around him. Maybe it's the work of the devil to see if I am reckless enough to pursue the darkness and come alive with the smoke smothering my lungs as I roll the dice and move into his cruelest intentions yet to shred another layer off my soul. 

I can't sleep, breath and lost within the fog of my thoughts and wrapping in emotions ripping through my senses. The actions based on instinct led me to someone who is ripping my soul away from me and it's drowning in fate to see if it returns to me or submits to becoming his even while it's just mirrors and smokes of a digital world without even a voice of him to tether me before a fall into a void and cast into a realm of choices of insanity. I did not doubt love at first sight or even by written words across a span of time but do I and can I accept it being in this reality? If I appeared in his in his dreams, would he even recognize me? Would he know me if I was covered in blood with darkness wrapping around me, if I screamed his name? Or would the truth, leave me abandoned or would the steps be him calling out to me? Can I put someone else to stand with until the end of the line without losing more of me until I am too worn out and paralyzed.  

Unlike most, it almost feels like if I move into this, it could be a mutually assured destruction. Maybe this is just a faulty by design. He is fresh out of a relationship which logically  means at worst I'm a distraction and at best the rebound while he heals and then realizes I'm just not who he wants. Just to become a figment of his past, and a shredded image in his haunted memories. 

And for me, it's almost like I could see Jasha nod in approval to move forward, but we were walking suicides. There is something with my chipmunk. It is like I'm too far gone to turn around and despite if he will be more than a sequence of numbers on a screen, I am being tied to the soul beyond. I know it seems like I must be a complete mess... but I can say i know I'm falling into him, and miss him all I know, and don't know. 

If things were different with mom, before anything I would have jumped a plane to but this in reality. To see him or find an empty space when he turned away when the lines between worlds blend... so there is a lot more faith required to move forward with my emotions and ignoring the fractures of reality and move from just a infatuation of feelings to cutting it open to love a stranger from afar. 

Woodland tricks and glimpses

I am truly sorry for anything I said or did that made you uncomfortable. It was never my intention to cast a shadow over our conversations or to make you feel uneasy. When I brought up Lekja and my relationship with him, it was an attempt to shed light on my feelings of failure in keeping him happy and navigating the turbulent waters of our differences. It often felt like I was wandering through a dark forest, where every misstep threatened to pull me deeper into a thicket of confusion. I was trying to articulate my struggles, but the words got tangled like vines, choking my sincerity. I think I was also trying to shine a beacon on my own inner turmoil, a reminder that perhaps being single is the best option for me at this stage in my life—an open field where I can breathe freely without the weight of unspoken expectations.

While on my journal entries, I realize they now resemble the beginnings of a sprawling novel, filled with chapters of confusion, heartache, and occasional clarity. Each page is a canvas where I paint my thoughts and feelings, trying to weave reality into a cohesive tapestry that reflects my journey. Writing has always been my refuge, a way to untangle the chaos within and give shape to the nebulous clouds of my emotions.

When I returned to TikTok, my initial purpose was quite simple: I wanted to see if the app had been banned from US servers. To my surprise, it wasn’t, so I decided to check in with my friends. However, I found that most had already moved on, like leaves carried away by the autumn wind, settling into new paths and new lives. That’s when the “creators you may like” list popped up, and I started adding some random accounts, not paying attention to who they were. The only detail that lingered in my mind was that you had a cat in your profile picture—a small, warm reminder of comfort in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I didn’t realize at first that you were a soldier or anything else about you until I went to your profile to follow you out of courtesy. After watching your videos, I hoped you were doing well and safe, like a lighthouse guiding me through the fog of uncertainty. However, I couldn’t be sure if any of those videos featured you, as it’s common for people to post photos of friends, family, or soldiers from their own countries. So, I didn’t think too much of it at that point.

Then we started talking, and to my surprise, I felt genuinely at ease with you. This comfort felt like a warm blanket enveloping me on a cold night, wrapping around my heart and making me feel secure. It was a sensation I hadn’t experienced in a long time, and that’s probably why I shared some of the worst aspects of my personality, thinking that might scare you away. Usually, that tactic works; people tend to disengage or become rude enough for me to block them and move on. But you didn’t go away. Instead, I noticed that I didn’t feel my usual defensive walls rising up, as if they were crumbling like old bricks under the pressure of a gentle breeze. I tried to convince myself that it was just a pleasant conversation and that we could keep it light and short. Despite appearances, I actually don’t venture off-site very often. I’ve had experiences in the past that felt like a waste of time and energy—like trying to grow flowers in barren soil—so I’ve been cautious about engaging deeply unless someone is local.

In recent years, I’ve found it surprisingly easy to remain uninterested in dating. No single guy has sparked my interest enough for a second date, let alone a relationship. I thought I had moved beyond the idea of sharing my life or thoughts with anyone new. I feel too old to consider having children, and my scars—both emotional and physical—often deter men. Even the mere suggestion of my past can be enough to turn them away, especially if they catch a hint of it in my demeanor or appearance, like shadows lurking just out of sight, whispering doubts into the quiet spaces of my mind.

Lately, my focus has shifted toward my own plans regarding work, the time off I’ll need for surgery, and moving forward with my personal goals. I’ve been trying to carve out a future that feels both manageable and hopeful, like planting a garden after a long, harsh winter. I dream of blooming flowers and vibrant colors, a life filled with possibilities and joy.

You may have noticed in some of my videos that I wear a ring on my ring finger. I’ve found that, at least in social and work settings, it helps deter men from approaching me. Those who do pursue a married woman are definitely not the kind of men I want in my life. I’ve grown tired of caring for someone else in that sense, as if I were carrying the weight of their expectations on my shoulders like a boulder rolling down a steep hill. This is yet another reason to remain single, even if I occasionally go on dates to appease my mom, who worries that I’ve given up on life—at least in her eyes.

I’ve shared my experience of accidentally dating a man who was still married as a reminder to myself that I don’t want to get involved with married men. I still respect the institution of marriage, even if it’s not my own, like a sacred garden that deserves care and attention, not to be trampled by careless feet.

My journey has taken me from never really believing in love as a necessity for a relationship to a deeper understanding of its complexities. My first marriage wasn’t built on love; rather, it was a partnership that had its roots in respect. My first husband and I were falling in love with each other over time, but initially, it worked because we respected one another. Looking back, I realize I was much too young to step into that role, but he gave me the space to grow and heal, even amidst the responsibilities of children and the challenges of being a wife. Those early days felt like a delicate dance, where each step needed to be carefully choreographed to avoid stepping on each other’s toes.

You mentioned how I’m an adult and that my mom didn’t have a say in my life choices, but it wasn’t that straightforward for many years. I went through therapy, working hard to interact with healthy people to learn what a healthy relationship looks like. For years, it felt like I was in a constant battle with my past, like trying to swim against a strong current with no shore in sight. I still felt a need to prove to my mother that I could be a good person, even if it wasn’t always obvious. I lost my entire family when I turned 11. I lost my friends, my school, my pets, and, most importantly, my sense of freedom and safety. I learned quickly that if I was going to be beaten, it was better not to defend myself or strike back, as that only made things worse. This mindset carried through into my adult relationships, where I often defaulted to not defending myself—neither through words nor actions. I learned to simply accept what others deemed appropriate, like a chameleon blending into its surroundings, adapting but never truly belonging.

As I went through my divorce, I began to confront the painful reality of what had transpired. My marriage had always felt like an uphill battle, a constant struggle against the tide. There was never a true sense of love or mutual respect between us; it often felt like we were two ships passing in the night, each navigating our own storms without ever truly connecting. We were both trapped in a cycle of trying to make everyone else happy—family, friends, society—while neglecting the very foundation of our own relationship. It was as if I was donning a mask, smiling on the outside while inside I felt like I was drowning in a sea of unmet needs and unspoken resentments.

The events that had led me into that marriage cast long shadows over our life together. I entered that union carrying the weight of my past, desperately trying to recover from the traumas that had shaped me. Instead of finding solace and healing in my partner, I found myself trapped in a web of expectations and obligations. I poured my energy into pleasing others, believing that if I could just make everyone else happy, I would somehow find my own peace. But that never happened. Each day felt like a relentless cycle of disappointment, a reminder that I was trying to construct a life on a shaky foundation that had been built on the quicksand of obligation rather than genuine connection.

As the reality of my failed marriage sank in, I grappled with feelings of inadequacy and failure. I felt as though I had let everyone down, including myself. The dreams I once held of a loving partnership had been reduced to mere ashes, leaving behind only the bitter taste of regret. I was left with the haunting question of what went wrong—why could I not make it work? It was as if I was chasing an illusion, desperately trying to grasp something that was never truly there. The experience taught me that sometimes, the hardest lesson is recognizing when to let go, even when it feels like a defeat.

Emerging from that chapter of my life, I began to understand the importance of self-worth and the necessity of building a future rooted in authenticity. I began to improve my understanding of boundaries and how to avoid repeating the mistakes of my past relationships. I became more aware of what I wanted and needed, both from myself and from others. I  realized that I needed to shed the expectations that had bound me for so long and learn to navigate life on my own terms. It was a painful but necessary awakening, one that ultimately led me to seek healthier relationships and a renewed sense of the person I truly wanted be. 

When we had that first argument and you sent that hug sticker, it genuinely moved me. It made me cry a little, touched by your kindness. If that moment had occurred in person, I probably would have melted entirely at such a sweet gesture, like ice in the warmth of the sun, feeling a rush of warmth and relief.

I don’t want just any relationship; I want one that gives me a reason to pull away from my friends and focus on building a life with someone special. I want a partner who is willing to share our lives—through good times and bad. I envision a relationship where love and care remain intact, even on the toughest days, ready to soothe and help us find our way back to a better place, like a compass guiding us home through the stormy seas of life.

And here I am, grappling with feelings for a literal stranger who still has a wife and daughters. I know that should have been enough to keep my distance and maintain a pleasant, surface-level conversation. I truly wasn’t even considering anything like this right now. So, I’m finding myself jumping back and forth, trying to untangle my emotions in light of this unexpected development. It feels like a whirlwind, sweeping me off my feet and leaving me in a state of confusion, yet also igniting a spark of curiosity that maybe there’s more to explore without violations to the marriage. 

Wishing well of Nightmares

I don’t know why it matters to me how he feel about me. Normally, this kind of thing rolls off my back like water off a duck. I’ve built up walls over the years to protect myself from the opinions and judgments of others, and that defense mechanism has served me well. It’s almost second nature now to disregard what people think, to maintain a level of emotional distance that keeps me safe, but others unaware of it. But with him, it feels different. There’s something about our interactions that strikes a chord deep within me. I genuinely feel like he a good soul—not just a good person. It might sound foolish, especially since I barely know him, but I can’t shake this instinctive connection. I know I already shared more with him in a few days then many of those who think we are friends. 

People have often told me that following my feelings is my downfall. I can’t deny it; I’ve been led down paths that left me bruised and confused. I remember times when I let myself try to stick with the logical choice and it lead me, only to find myself ensnared in situations that felt more like traps than opportunities. Those moments were painful, often leading to regret and self-doubt. Yet, somehow, that same experiences deepened my own instincts and the trust in them has kept me afloat, especially during those times when I’ve had to navigate life on my own. So many people I was raised to trust have turned their backs on me when I needed them most. I’ve learned to build my own foundation, brick by brick, relying solely on myself. It’s been a lonely journey at times, but it’s also taught me resilience and self-sufficiency. I had plenty of people try to play hero when they learned just a bit of my past or else turn on me deciding I was worthless to them and as person. 

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more resolute in my belief that I shouldn’t care about what others think or feel about my life. It’s a conversation that’s always been just between me and my God. He’ll decide the outcome when all is said and done. I find comfort in that knowing that my worth isn’t tied to the opinions of others but rather to something deeper and more enduring. It’s liberating to think that I can define my own path, but it also means that I sometimes wrestle with feelings of isolation for not seeking that acceptance that many people around me talk about. 

Yet here I am, feeling something I haven't felt in a long time. Even past relationships didn’t shake me like this. They had their complexities, but I managed to keep my emotions in check at least enough not take it too deep, maintaining a certain distance that felt safe. With him, though, it feels like your words have sunk in too deep, and I can’t quite figure out why. It’s unsettling to realize how much his perceptions have impacted me in such a short time. It makes me question my own judgment and whether I’m perhaps too open, too vulnerable for my own good. Yet, I also had learn to just give enough they feel I'm open but without truly putting the emotions and memories on the table. 

I know our languages and the meanings of words can get lost in translation, especially when viewed through different cultural lenses and electronic translations where tone and body languageis not available to help define if the words are matching. There’s beauty in that, but it can also be frustrating. I understand that, logically, I should be able to brush it off, yet it stings that him seemed to feel I didn’t try or that I didn’t do my best. That hit harder than I expected. It’s a reminder of how deeply I can care, how difficult it can be to be understood, and how easily that desire can be misunderstood. When words are lacking to express the initial emotional responses and when logic is fractured but the essences of his soul beyond the words.

I keep replaying our conversations in my mind, dissecting every word and pause. Did I come across as disinterested? Was there something more I could have done to convey my intentions? I can’t help but feel vulnerable, exposed in a way I haven’t allowed myself to be in years. I’ve worked so hard to protect my own sense of self, and now I find myself letting it crack open a bit because of this connection with a stranger whom logically i know less about than the customer in line at the market with me. The tension between wanting to connect deeper with him and protecting myself is exhausting my logic to let him know I am not here to harm or neglect his feelings or thoughts. 

Maybe it’s the sincerity I feel in him that draws me in. There’s a straightforwardness that feels refreshing in a world often heavy with pretense. I want to understand his words and feelings better, to see what lies beneath the surface. But I’m also apprehensive about how to do it in such a qay he can feel safe and comfortable. It’s daunting to think about the layers we all carry, the histories and stories that shape who we are. What if the more I share, the more I give him the noose to hang me with? It's already matters to me and despite much, I do care about his well-being both in body and spirit and last thing I want to do is give him any reason to not to smile and feel relaxed, I already know he has enough on his mind and heart and that goes beyond the war at hand. 

I’m grappling with so many questions: Why does it matter so much? Why do I care? And what does this mean for me moving forward? I know I need to take a step back and breathe. I don’t want to rush into anything without understanding my own feelings first. It’s a delicate balance—wanting to forge connections while protecting my own heart. But a part of me is eager to explore this connection, to see where it might lead.

In the end, I just hope I can figure it all out before I do anything to hurt him or myself. I want to be honest but often my ability to describe things in a factural and detailed manner seems to be lacking. This uncertain territory with clarity and purpose seems so unusually difficult. Perhaps this experience is a reminder that it’s okay to feel deeply, that vulnerability doesn’t always have to be a weakness. Maybe it’s an opportunity for growth, for learning about myself and or get back to reining in my emotions to prevent unnecessary complications and miscommunications. 

This is a chance to practice patience—both with myself and with evolution of a relationship with another person. I’ve spent so long, trying to meet expectations and fulfill obligations. Maybe I need to embrace the uncertainty, to allow myself to be open to whatever this might bring. I just hope that as I navigate this complex web of feelings, I can find my footing and ultimately come out stronger, more aware of what I truly give that can add value to the investment with someone who has no reason to even bother with me. 

Reflection of 2019

Reflecting on 2019, I realize it was a year filled with unexpected twists and wonderful connections, all underscored by the music that accompanied me. One song that resonated deeply in the early months was "Stop Me When You Had Enough" by Nural. While the lyrics didn’t necessarily encapsulate my feelings, the overall vibe of the song mirrored the repeated pleas my ex made when I expressed my concerns about our relationship. His engagement to someone else and the impending arrival of a child only underscored the emotional turmoil I felt. I could hear echoes of his reluctance to confront reality in the music, which felt like a haunting reminder of a love that wasn’t meant to be. By 2019, we were in the midst of finalizing our divorce, and I had moved away, keeping myself busy with jobs at Walmart, Circle K, and in Home Health Care. I wasn’t looking back at what-ifs; we had both chosen different paths, and I was determined to forge my own.

During this time, a dear long-term friend I had recently reconnected with sent me "Let It Die" by Starset. The song felt like an anthem for new beginnings, urging me to let go of the past and embrace change. The line “Let it die, let it die, let it die” echoed in my mind, reminding me that sometimes we must release what no longer serves us. My friend’s encouragement to consider relocating where he was at in Dubai was a lifeline during a time when I felt adrift. Although I appreciated the gesture, I wasn’t ready for anything too demanding until my divorce was finalized. The previous year had been turbulent, marked by dangerous behaviors from my ex, which necessitated precautions to ensure my safety. I was just beginning to feel secure again in my daily life when I faced a serious medical emergency a clot in my lung. Initially, I mistook the symptoms of a panic attack, but during a shift at Walmart, I felt increasingly heavy in my chest and disoriented. I was going to drive to the ER but decided to drive to my place across town first to get my medical card. This timing ultimately ended with me at the closest urgent care instead. They ended up sending me to the hospital emergency room by ambulance. Thankfully, the staff there acted quickly, and the ER doctor found the clot.

Afterward, the blood thinners I was prescribed kicked my butt. I felt like a ghost of my former self, struggling to regain my strength. During this time, I found comfort in "In the Middle of the Road" by Joanne Shenandoah, particularly the line, “Stars seem so bright, my vision seems so blurred.” This lyric perfectly encapsulated my mood, reflecting the haziness that often accompanied my depressive state. The stars symbolized hope, yet my blurred vision represented the confusion and uncertainty that clouded my mind. My doctor adjusted my medication, explaining that exhaustion was contributing to my feelings, and I tried to fight back against the darkness that threatened to overwhelm me.

Fate had it that after I missed several days of work due to the flu, Walmart let me go for having too many absences. This felt like a double-edged sword: while losing my job was stressful, it also freed me to focus on healing. I shifted my attention to Circle K and working with more patients in remote areas. Although I still cared for those from my past, I felt ready to shed the skin of my former life as a wife. "Six Feet Underground" by Lord of the Lost became my anthem for that chapter, capturing the finality and weight of that part of my life. The lyrics “I’m six feet underground, and I’m never coming back” resonated deeply, symbolizing the emotional death I experienced in that relationship. I wished my ex well, but I recognized there was no need to salvage a friendship marred by toxicity, especially given the disrespect he showed my mom during our last year together.

As spring and summer unfolded, I started accepting a few dates. Most of these encounters were light-hearted and fun, allowing me to get to know new people. The song "Meant To Be" by Bebe Rexha featuring Florida Georgia Line became a fitting soundtrack during this time, with the lyrics “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” It embodied the carefree attitude I was embracing, reminding me that life could be filled with serendipity and that maybe love could still find me. However, everything took a turn at the end of July. I found myself drawn to "Until The End Of Time" by Apoptygma Berzerk, a song that echoed my desire for connection while also reflecting the shadows creeping into my mind. The title itself felt like a poignant reminder of the infinite nature of longing and the emotional weight of my past. As some know from past postings, my drink was drugged, and I was charged with a DUI and put on a 1 year probation.

By late August, I met someone I felt comfortable with, and we officially started dating. Yet, I was still grappling with darker thoughts and trying to avoid falling back into self-destructive habits. During this time, "Heinous" by Dark Lotus resonated deeply with me. The raw energy of the song mirrored my internal battles, with lines like “It’s the darkness inside me,” serving as both a catharsis and a warning of the darker paths I had once tread. I moved away from many people and focused on my own needs, even quitting my job at Circle K when a manager became too difficult to handle. This decision felt like cutting ties with the toxicity that had plagued my life, reclaiming my agency.

Toward the end of the year, my relationship began to shift; my goals didn’t align with his, leading to tension. I was also quite sick. With a blood test resulting in SARS-2 antibodies (This was before Covid was barely starting to known), but at that moment, No one realize the severity of the situation, still needing to fulfill work obligations.

This was now 1 year divorced the day before Thanksgiving and part of it was truly giving me a force to shed all my plans, and ideals to accept the new rules and construction of relationships that led me to this space in time. 

As the year closed, "Broken" by Mob-C became my anthem, reflecting the internal struggles I faced. The haunting line “I’m broken, I’m shattered” encapsulated the fragility of my mental state and the pieces I was still trying to put together. I went back on Prozac during this period, a reminder that I was still working on my mental health. Thankfully, a few good friends continued to reach out, supporting me through it all.

Other songs that marked my 2019 soundtrack included "Someday" by Godsmack, which spoke to hope and perseverance with the line “Someday, I'll be free,” and "Melt Down" by Tosha Lynn, capturing the intensity of my emotions with its raw honesty. Finally, "Epilogue" by Mouth of the South felt like a fitting conclusion to the tumultuous year, encapsulating the lessons learned and the journey ahead.

Looking back, I see how music not only accompanied me through my struggles but also helped me articulate my journey of healing and growth. Each song represents a piece of my story, symbolizing the complexity and resilience I discovered within myself. The melodies and lyrics became a mirror reflecting my inner world, guiding me through the darkest moments and celebrating the small victories. In the end, I emerged not just as a survivor of my past but as a seeker of new beginnings, ready to embrace whatever came next.

The song now that I think can wrap this up would be Will You Cry For Me by Arina Chloe ft. Deuce

2018 Reflections

 Throughout the summer, I felt pressure from others to save my marriage, but it takes two to make it work, and one of us had already started making plans with someone else. Silence filled the spaces between necessary conversations, and I felt lost. However, the song "Carry Me On" by Tom Andrews became a guiding anthem as my true friends rejoined my life, reminding me that I wasn't alone in my struggles. The lyrics spoke to my longing for support and companionship during such a challenging time. "Phantom and Vapors" provided silent strength during my weakest moments, encapsulating the feeling of having someone quietly rooting for me even when I felt like I was drowning.

As I waded through this turbulent sea of emotions, "My Better Me" by Lord of the Lost resonated with the painful truth that we had become toxic to each other, despite our best intentions. The song's raw honesty helped me confront the reality of my situation, allowing me to acknowledge that the love we once shared had turned into a slow poison that had seeped into our relationship. Letting go of that toxic bond opened up a void, but it also allowed me to shed the demands of being a wife and reclaim my identity.

In the midst of this upheaval, I began to feel a flicker of light in the darkness of my heart. As I relocated and started a new chapter, I found myself reconnecting with loyal friends from the past. Their unwavering support reignited a sense of belonging I had longed for, reminding me that I am not defined by my struggles but rather by the connections I nurture. I became open to welcoming new people into my life, eager to share this part of my journey with those who resonate with my newfound spirit.

Phantom and Vapor encouraged me to reconnect with my authentic self, free from the constraints of others' perceptions. The haunting melodies and introspective lyrics reminded me that vulnerability could be a source of strength. The song "There'll Come a Day" by The Letter Black also found its way into my rotation, offering a beacon of hope that brighter days are ahead. Its uplifting message helped me to envision a future filled with possibilities, even when I felt overwhelmed by despair.

Even from a distance, my friends were my lifeline, providing support through video calls and texts, acting as an IV to nourish my mind and soul during the darkest moments of letting go. The song "For Every Step" by Dead by April became an anthem for us, reminding me that those who truly belong in my life will always hold a special place in my heart. Its themes of loyalty and resilience resonated deeply, reinforcing the idea that I wasn't alone in this journey.

At the beginning of the year, I felt a strong connection to Tosha Lynn’s music, especially "Walking Alone." Its poignant lyrics perfectly captured the isolation I felt during those dark days. But as the year came to a close, preparing to move forward and embrace the future, "Ready to Fall" by Chris Wallace began to resonate with me more intensely. The song's message of embracing change and the unknown became a powerful mantra, igniting a sense of excitement within me.

While I started this year feeling hopeless and lost, I am ending it with a newfound sense of hope. The emotional value of these songs has been immeasurable, acting as both a mirror to my pain and a lighthouse guiding me toward healing. Each lyric, each melody, has woven itself into the fabric of my journey, reminding me that even in the darkest moments, there is always a flicker of light waiting to be reignited. Music has been my companion, reflecting my struggles and helping me celebrate my victories, no matter how small.

As I prepare to embrace whatever the future holds, I feel a sense of excitement bubbling within me. I am ready to explore new possibilities and forge connections with those who enter this chapter of my life. With the loyal friends from my past by my side and an open heart for new relationships, I stand at the threshold of a fresh beginning, eager to discover what lies ahead. Each day feels like an opportunity for growth and renewal, and I am filled with gratitude for the lessons learned and the strength I've gained. I know that I have the resilience and support to navigate this new chapter, and I am ready to step forward with hope lighting my way.

Other noted songs of 2018 for me were:

> Heart Attack by Trey Songz

>Tomorrow Never Comes by VNV Nation

>Drive Him Home by Anna Nalick

>Mirrored Image by Tosha Lynn

>Burning by EMD

2017 reflection

 Reflection of my Playlist according to Spotify. 

Listening to my older top songs on Spotify, I find myself transported back to 2017, the last year of my marriage. It was a time marked by a tumultuous mix of fleeting good days and deeper struggles, where both my partner and I seemed lost in our own identities. A couple of songs really encapsulated the internal mood I was navigating, serving as both a soundtrack to my experiences and a reflection of my emotional state.

"Heavy” by Linkin Park (ft. Kiiara) resonated deeply with me. The weight of its lyrics mirrored my own feelings of being trapped under the pressure of trying to conform to others' expectations. I was isolating myself, losing sight of who I truly was in an effort to make those around me more comfortable. The song became a symbol of my struggle, a reminder that I needed to confront the heaviness I was carrying rather than let it define me.

Then there was “Road to Recovery” by Soldier Hard. This track represented the crucial steps I needed to take towards healing. It echoed my desire to reclaim a sense of sanity and stillness amidst the chaos. The notion of recovery became a powerful symbol in my life, pushing me to surround myself with a chosen few who truly understood my journey. It was a pivotal moment of realization: I had the agency to steer my own path.

“With or Without You” by Dope encapsulated the internal conflict I faced. The lyrics spoke to the painful decision of choosing between being my authentic self or remaining a mere prop in someone else’s narrative. It was a turning point for me, where I had to confront the abyss of inauthentic existence, and decide to embrace my identity, regardless of the consequences.

At the lowest point of that year, the melody of “Not the Time” by Dopesic provided a strange comfort. It felt like a lullaby for my psyche, soothing me as I played a losing hand in a situation that felt overwhelming. The song symbolized my struggle but also my resilience, reminding me that it was okay to feel lost, as long as I continued searching for my way back.

These songs became more than just music; they were artifacts of my emotional journey, embodying my struggles and triumphs. They helped me navigate the complexities of my experiences, providing both solace and clarity. As I reflect on those moments, I recognize how music can serve as a powerful form of symbolic interactionism, allowing me to connect my internal feelings with the external world, ultimately guiding me toward healing and self-discovery.

A few other notable songs from that for me was:

>Not Prepared by Mesh.  

>Disappoint by Assemblage23 (Its more towards monologuing with myself)

>We Don't Run by Bon Jovi

>Forgive Me by Dark Half

>Go Away Bad Dreams by Deine Lakaien