The Loop
- Reads 1,063
- Votes 106
- Parts 20
Ongoing2h 4m
Last published Fri, Jul 12, 2024
It's a different kind of devastation when the people you love disappear, not with a dramatic ending, but like the universe simply pressed delete and erased them from every corner of your life. One day they exist, the next, you are reaching for a presence that is no longer there to hold you.
And if time ever bent in your favour, if it opened even the faintest crack, would you crawl through it just to pull them back? Would you whisper all the things you swallowed?
Or would you realize, with trembling hands,
that some losses were stitched into your fate long before your heart dared to love?
Maybe life is a loop;
not of repeating moments,
but repeating pains,
the same kind of love,
the same kind of loss,
the same quiet breaking in the same fragile place inside your chest. 𓇢𓆸
And somehow, you keep breathing, even when it feels like every inhale echoes through the empty space they left inside your chest.
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#386
highschoolexperience
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The air between them was thick, suffocating, as if the room itself held its breath. Words hung in the silence, sharp and unspoken, before finally breaking free in jagged shards. "Why does it always have to be like this with you?" they snapped, their voice trembling somewhere between anger and despair. Their response was immediate, defensive. "Me? You're the one who never listens!" The words were loud, but their eyes betrayed the crack beneath the surface-a flicker of hurt they tried to bury under frustration. Each word exchanged was a step deeper into a place neither wanted to go, but neither knew how to stop. The room felt colder, smaller, as if the walls themselves were closing in, pressing the weight of their unsaid truths closer to the surface. "Maybe if you actually cared-" "Don't you dare," came the cutting interruption, voice low and dangerous. But the anger was laced with something raw, something unsteady, like a rope fraying at the edges. For a moment, they locked eyes, and the silence was deafening. It was a battlefield of emotions neither could fully articulate-anger, hurt, longing, and the fear of losing something they couldn't quite name. Then came the breaking point-a word too sharp, a truth too bitter to swallow. One turned away, shoulders trembling, while the other stood frozen, fists clenched at their sides. It wasn't the shouting that lingered in the room after, but the heavy quiet-the weight of what wasn't said, and the fragile, aching distance between them.
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