𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍 • ᵉ ʲᵃᵉᵍᵉʳ

ever so confused

𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟸𝟺𝚝𝚑

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔."
That quote has been running the track that is my brain for the past 19 years of my life. It plays on repeat like a haunting melody, reminding me of the darkness that seems to follow me wherever I go.

Remember when I said I'd try and refind whatever voice I had? That didn't work out. I've tried for the past two days to think of what I could do to get him out of my brain. I've avoided the dorm common areas, dodged all the spots on campus where I might run into him, but no matter how hard I try, his memory clings to me like an unwanted shadow.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the pale light of morning spilling in through the window. Each ray feels like a reminder of the warmth he once brought into my life, now replaced by an icy emptiness. I can't help but replay the moments we shared—the laughter, the stolen glances, the way he made me feel alive.

But then there's the crushing reality of it all—the way he shattered my trust with that one reckless act. The image of him kissing Historia plays like a loop in my mind, burning into my memory. How could he do that? How could he act like we didn't share something real? My heart twists painfully in my chest, as if it's trying to fight against the emotions that threaten to drown me.

I roll over in bed, burying my face in the pillow. "You need to stop this," I mutter to myself. "You need to let go." I tell myself that he's just a boy, just a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of my life, but my heart stubbornly refuses to listen.

The memories come flooding back, uninvited—his laughter echoing in my ears, the warmth of his skin against mine, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. It's maddening. I feel like I'm losing a battle against my own mind.

I throw the covers off and sit up, determined to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. I can't let him take up space in my head anymore. I push myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—dark circles under my eyes, hair a tangled mess. I don't recognize the girl staring back at me, and it scares me.

"Get a grip, Y/N," I whisper, taking a deep breath. Today is a new day, and I need to find a way to move on. Maybe I'll hit up the local coffee shop, drown my sorrows in caffeine and a good book. Maybe I'll call Leno and see if he wants to hang out. Anything to distract myself from the aching void that Eren left behind.

As I rummage through my closet for something to wear, I can't help but feel that familiar pang in my chest. I wish I could go back to the time before all this—the time when I could let my guard down and just be happy. But I know that's not possible. The scars of heartbreak are too deep, and the world outside feels like a minefield I'm not sure I'm ready to navigate.

But I have to try. I owe it to myself to find that voice again, to reclaim the parts of me that feel lost.

He probably got bored of me once we had sex. That's probably why he kissed her. He probably thought we were just a fleeting fall fling, something he could discard easily because it's less likely for men to get attached. The thought twists in my gut, leaving a bitter aftertaste that I can't shake. I've secretly been going insane over this. It's been 134 days since I met him, and he's occupied a significant space in my mind every single one of those days.

But yet again, I don't really care. We had one good moment, but that's over now. I can't even remember what connection we almost had. It's like trying to recall a dream that evaporates upon waking—vague, fragmented, and slipping through my fingers. The laughter we shared, the secrets whispered in the quiet hours, the heat of our bodies tangled together; it all feels like a distant memory now, blurred by the haze of heartbreak and betrayal.