Beyond the Neon Masks

Chronicles of a Frozen Heart

Silence rang in the air, filled with shards of our love. I looked into your eyes – once bottomless lakes of tenderness, now covered with a crust of ice. They reflected the entire history of our fall, every moment when we lost, piece by piece, what seemed eternal.

Remember our beginning? It was like dawn after the longest night – bright, promising, full of hope. We built castles from dreams, not suspecting that their foundation rested on thin ice. Every "forever" seemed carved in stone, every "I love you" – an unbreakable vow.

But time... Time proved to be a merciless sculptor. Day by day, it carved new forms from us, turning warmth into cold, tenderness into alienation. We didn't notice how we began to die – slowly, in parts, losing ourselves in an endless string of mutual reproaches and silent grievances.

You screamed. Your voice shattered against the walls of my indifference like waves against rocks. You begged me not to leave, clutching at the ghost of what was once "us". But I could no longer respond. My heart had turned into an icy desert, where every feeling froze before it could be born.

We played this game for a whole year – pretending to be alive when inside we had long since grown cold. Every morning we put on masks, played roles in a performance called "Happy Relationship". And at night... At night we lay side by side, but infinity stretched between us.

Your words-daggers wounded, but I couldn't even feel the pain. You thought everything could be fixed, that it was enough to simply apologize, and we would return to that "before" when our hearts beat in unison. But some wounds don't heal. Some bridges, once burned, cannot be rebuilt.

I remained silent because all words had long been said. All attempts – exhausted. All hopes – buried under an avalanche of mutual accusations and misunderstanding. We became ghosts of our own happiness, wandering through memory's corridors in search of what was irretrievably lost.

Someone had to find the strength to acknowledge the obvious. Someone had to take on the role of executioner of our illusions. And I chose this role. Because it's easier to be the one who destroys than the one who continues to hope.

Let me be that marble statue, that unfeeling stone that will shatter the last hopes. Let the guilt rest on my shoulders – I am strong enough to bear this burden.

And now... Now it's time to leave. Into the darkness, where fragments of what we once called love crunch under foot. And let a drop of blood roll down my cheek – the last reminder that I was once alive. That we were once alive. Together.

Goodbye. There's no point in holding onto what has already turned to ice. No point in trying to warm what has long since frozen. Sometimes the best way to preserve the memory of something beautiful is to let it die with dignity, not turning it into a caricature of former glory.

And let in the final moment, before dissolving into darkness, I feel the ice cracking in my chest. This isn't a thaw – it's the last breath of what was once our love. The final chord of a symphony that began as a hymn to happiness and ended as a requiem for unfulfilled dreams.

We must simply leave. Without looking back, without regrets, carrying with us only the memory of how beautifully we knew how to love. And how tragically we unlearned to do so.