I was thinking about losing. About things not unfolding the way I counted on them to. Not even dramatically wrong, just… not mine. Not choosing me.
There is a very specific feeling there. Being the one who waited, who invested, who believed, and then realizing you were not the one chosen in return.
The first instinct is to step away from it. To soften it. To explain it. To give it time so it loses its edge. To not take it personally. To not let it define you. To treat it as something temporary, something to move past.
But what if that is not the point.
What if the point is not to move past it at all.
Not to turn it into strength. Not to reshape it into meaning. Not to extract a lesson from it so it becomes useful.
Just to stay.
To stay with the exact place where it did not work. Where it did not return what you gave.
You believed fully. You trusted without holding back. You allowed yourself to want something clearly, without protection.
And then it did not happen.
And you stay anyway.
Not as a step toward healing. Not as a method. Just as a fact.
Maybe that is the only honest way to measure a life. Not by what stayed, but by what you were willing to risk, even when it left.
——————————————
Nothing stays
only the habit of holding
you reach
and time answers by taking
memory keeps
what life refused
a shape
without weight
———-
You chose
as if choosing mattered
everything loosened anyway
now only memory holds
with a grip
that cannot touch
———-
Life is not the holding
but the release
and staying
after
with what remains
the feeling
and its echo
not asking
for return
———–
You let it go
it does not end
it stays as feeling
as memory
and you stay
with both
without asking
why it was taken
———–
Not holding
but losing
not ending
but remaining
a feeling
that does not leave
a memory
that cannot return
and you
still there
————–
“There is honesty in rejection.
I wish you hadn’t made me wait all these years like that.”
What are the biggest losses you lived through so far?
Brag about them in the comment section below:
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