Unwritten Shadows of a Clouded Mind

Unanswered Calls

I've heard that love is supposed to be patient, kind, and all those beautiful things that poets and dreamers write about. But they never tell you what to do when love turns into a one-sided conversation with silence as the only reply. They never tell you how to navigate the hollow spaces where laughter used to echo or how to fill the void left by someone who used to fill your every waking thought. They never prepare you for the moment when your messages go unread, and the familiar sound of your ringtone no longer stirs excitement but dread.

I've stopped counting the days since the last time we spoke. It feels like an eternity, though in reality, it hasn't been long enough for the pain to dull. I still remember the way your voice used to sound when you called, that warm timbre that made everything feel okay, even on the worst days. Now, I sit staring at my phone, willing it to light up with your name, knowing deep down that it won't.

I send messages I know will go unanswered. 

Each one is a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of connection, a hope that maybe this time you'll respond. But my words fall into the void, disappearing into the ether with no trace left behind. I'm left to wonder if you even see them, if they register at all, or if they're just another noise you've learned to tune out.

I tell myself I shouldn't bother you. You're busy, after all, busy living a life that no longer includes me, busy loving someone else in a way you once loved me. 

It's a strange kind of torture, knowing that the person who was once your world has moved on, that they're now someone else's reason to smile, someone else's late-night conversation, someone else's comfort in the storm.

I want to ask you about her, this new person who has captured your heart. I want to know what makes her so special, what she does that I couldn't, why she's the one who gets to have you now. But I don't. I can't. I tell myself it's because I want what's best for you, that I don't want to burden you with my lingering feelings, my unresolved pain. But the truth is, I'm afraid of the answer. I'm afraid that knowing the details will make it all too real, will make it impossible to cling to the illusion that maybe you still care, that maybe there's still a part of you that misses me.

So I hold my tongue and my tears, pretending that I'm okay, that I'm moving on just like you are. 

I smile when people ask about you, say we're just friends now, say that I'm happy for you. I've become a master of pretending, of hiding the truth behind a mask of indifference. But inside, I'm anything but indifferent. Inside, I'm breaking apart, piece by piece, with every unanswered message, every silent day.

I replay our last conversation over and over in my mind, dissecting every word, every pause, searching for the moment when everything changed. Was it something I said, something I did, or was it simply inevitable, a slow unraveling that I was too blind to see? 

The not knowing is the worst part, the uncertainty that gnaws at me like a persistent ache that I can't shake off.

I wonder if you're happier now, if this new love fills the spaces I couldn't, if she understands you in ways I never could. 

I hope she makes you laugh, that she listens when you talk about your day, that she knows how to comfort you when you're feeling down. I want all of these things for you because I still love you, because your happiness is still my priority, even though I know I'm no longer yours.

But loving you from a distance is a kind of torment I never anticipated. It's like standing on the outside of a house I used to call home, peering in through the windows, watching you build a new life without me. I see the joy in your eyes, the way you light up when you're with her, and it tears me apart. But I keep watching, keep hoping that maybe one day you'll look up and see me there, that you'll remember the love we once shared and miss it, miss me.

I've become a ghost in your life, a shadow that lingers on the periphery, never fully gone but never fully present either. 

I'm the unanswered call, the unread message, the memory that you've pushed to the back of your mind. I exist in the spaces between your new life, in the moments of silence when you're alone with your thoughts. 

I wonder if you ever think of me, if there's ever a moment when you miss what we had, or if I've already been erased, replaced by something new and shiny.

I tell myself that I'm strong enough to let you go, that I can move on just like you have. But every time I try, every time I think I've made progress, something pulls me back, a memory, a song, things we used to enjoy. 

I'm stuck in this cycle of holding on and letting go, of wanting what's best for you but losing my mind over the fact that it's no longer me.

I remember the way you used to look at me, like I was the only person in the world who mattered. 

I remember the way you make me feel, even the smallest gesture that made me feel so loved, so secure. I wonder if you do that with her now, if she gets to experience the little things that made us special, the moments that I hold onto so tightly.

It's a strange kind of loneliness, loving someone who no longer loves you back. 

It's like shouting into a void, knowing that there will be no echo, no response. But still, I keep shouting, keep sending my love out into the universe, hoping that somehow, some way, it will reach you, that you'll feel it and remember what we had.

I know I can't keep doing this forever. I know that at some point, I have to let go, to stop holding onto something that no longer exists. 

But the thought of it feels like a death, like losing you all over again, this time for good. And I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to say goodbye to the person who was once my everything, to the memories that are all I have left.

I've read countless articles, books, and blogs on how to move on, how to heal a broken heart. They all say the same thing—focus on yourself, find new hobbies, spend time with friends and family. Nonsense. I started writing again just to feel like I have someone to talk with like how I have talked with you, though none of it fills the void that you left behind. None of it quiets the voice in my head that still calls out for you, that still clings to the hope that maybe, somehow, you'll come back to me.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I'll ever fully let go of you, if I'll ever be able to move on. But I do know that I want what's best for you, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness. 

I want you to be happy, even if it's with someone else, even if it means that I have to watch from the sidelines, a silent observer of a love that was once mine.

And so, I sit here, staring at my phone, waiting for a message that will never come, for a call that will never be made. 

I hold onto the memories, even though they're slowly slipping away, fading into the background of a life that no longer includes you. 

I hold on because it's all I know how to do, because letting go feels like losing a part of myself, a part that I'm not ready to give up just yet.

But deep down, I know that the time will come when I have to say goodbye, when I have to let go of the love that has been my anchor, my refuge in the storm. I know that someday, I'll have to face the reality that you're no longer mine, that you've moved on and found happiness without me.

Until then, I'll keep sending my messages into the void, keep holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember me, that you'll reach out and we'll find our way back to each other. But if not, if that day never comes, I'll find a way to be okay, to live with the memories and the knowledge that I loved you as deeply as I could, even if it wasn't enough.

Because in the end, that's all I can do—love you from a distance, hold onto the memories, and find a way to live with the silence that now fills the spaces where your voice used to be. 

Someday, I'll find peace in that silence, a way to move forward without looking back. But for now, I'm still here, still waiting, still hoping, still loving you from afar, even as you love someone else.