Slipping Through

I travel often.

I like watching happy people in beautiful places, trying to remember what it felt like to be happy.

But instead, it only reminds me how far I’ve drifted from anything that feels real.

I’ve spent my life chasing happiness, trying to outrun a sadness that never leaves. And the more I chase it, the more I see how brief it really is. Happiness slips away every time I think I’ve found it.

I used to plan everything, believing that if I mapped every step, I could control how my life would unfold. But now, my plans slip through like sand, and I can’t even find the will to begin again. The certainty I once clung to has dissolved into a fog of overthinking and indecision.

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. My feelings don’t fade easily. They keep asking for meaning I can’t seem to give them. I thought love would make sense of all this chaos, that it would give my life shape, maybe even happiness. But instead, it’s become a weight I can’t lift.
Not comfort.
Not connection.
Just a growing ache.

Even though my faith in a higher power is shaky at best, I still believe in love. I hold onto the hope that someday, the person I love will understand the depth of it. Until then, I just try to keep myself alive, even when I can feel my spirit fading.

I only ever wanted to experience my kind of love once.
Real.
Simple.
Unbroken.
But somewhere along the way, it became something heavy. Now, I’m not just searching for love. I’m searching for meaning itself.

I cling to the past because it’s the only thing that still feels real. The present is a blur. The future, too far to touch. And love whispers to me, not as a balm, but as a curse.

I wanted love to heal me.
Instead, it broke me.

Now I wait.
Not for her.
Not even for peace.
But for my spirit to fade away completely.