Healing Hearts

29 || the letters

Mateo ⋆｡°✩

December 2nd.

I woke up earlier than usual today, before 5 AM, and went straight to the bathroom.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself. Most days, when i look at my reflection, i feel nothing—no thoughts, no emotions, just an empty gaze. But today was different.

Today, i felt a wave of disgust wash over me as i looked at the person i'd become.

My hair was a mess, and the dark circles under my eyes were stark reminders of the sleepless nights i've been enduring, nights haunted by that day.

The day i can't stop thinking about.

When i looked back at the mirror, i didn't see the tough, emotionally strong Mateo everyone thinks i am. Instead, i saw a young, grieving boy, vulnerable and broken.

Suddenly, it's December, and i'm not 15 anymore. I haven't been 15 for a long time, but sometimes, i need to remind myself of that harsh truth.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to me like a shadow.

I grabbed a water bottle and a sticky note, jotting down a quick message, 'Will be back soon.'

I stuck it on the fridge, locked the front door, and made sure Emmalyn would be safe. I left her a spare key by the door, just in case, and then i took off on my bike, speeding down the cold, empty roads until i reached the gym.

It took a while to get there, but it's the only 24-hour gym around, a place where fighters train at odd hours, either early in the morning or late at night.

When i arrived, the guy at the front desk greeted me, but i barely acknowledged him.

I didn't have the energy to talk, let alone do anything today.

My life has improved a lot, so much better than before, but there's still this void inside me, a hollow space that no one can fill.

The girl of my dreams walked into my life when i least expected it, and i have these amazing friends who would go through hell with me.

But despite all that, something is missing. No one really knows how deep this emptiness runs. I started stretching, glancing around the nearly empty gym. It was just me and an older man training at this hour.

I grabbed two dumbbells and began lifting, pushing myself to the point of failure every time.

I focused on my biceps and triceps, throwing in a few machines, only stopping when the pain became unbearable, when it felt like my skin was about to tear apart.

I took a sip from my water bottle and grabbed a small snack from the front desk, something with protein to keep me going.

After eating, i wrapped my hands and started hitting the punching bag.

Each punch landed with precision and force, as if i were imagining an opponent's face in front of me.

Memories of my younger self flooded back, the kid who used to sneak into this very gym early in the morning to train, hiding it from my parents.