The Smoke-House Blues

The Smoke-House Blues

  • WpView
    Reads 44,483
  • WpVote
    Votes 1,698
  • WpPart
    Parts 102
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing39h 17m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Jul 7, 2026
I was always lost on what freedom and love looked like. I thought it looked like moving away at first, then it turned into just being able to go into town without worry. After that it looked just like a man I used to know, and after he left. I had no idea what exactly freedom should look, taste, sound or smell like anymore. I thought I had everything I needed growing up, and that freedom didn't exactly matter. Why care about it, as long as we were locked away together? Now years and a few months later, I was forced to figure that out. What freedom looked like for me.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • when you need me most
  • Ink Bleeds Red [MxM] || Completed
  • 47 Letters to Husbands
  • Nothing Like That
  • Broken Hearts (Brooklyn Beckham) [editing]
  • It hurts....the emptiness [reborn as Rebekah Mikealson]
  • The Deadman ✔
  • They Called Me a Tragedy
  • Breaking Point

When you need me most, that's when I walk away. I've spent years with him-giving, pretending, sacrificing-but I've never really felt the way I thought I would. And still, I've never fully walked away. Each day feels heavier than the last, a quiet ache gnawing at me, reminding me that the person I'm losing isn't him... it's myself. People see us together and think it's enough. They see the smiles, the routines, the quiet mornings, the coffee he always makes, and they assume our love is perfect. They do not know the nights I lie awake, questioning if staying is worth the cost, or if leaving will destroy everything I've built inside myself. They do not know the small, invisible ways I've been disappearing-slowly, quietly, while he keeps holding on, unaware of how fragile I feel. It isn't that I don't care for him. He's kind, patient, and loving in ways that make me ache. But sometimes love isn't enough when it takes more than you can give-and when the person you're with doesn't meet you where you need them most. Between guilt, obligation, and the pull of familiarity, I've lost sight of myself, and I can't tell if I'm holding on to him... or just holding myself back. And now, when life throws new challenges his way, I have to face a question I've avoided for far too long: do I continue to sacrifice myself for a love that demands everything and gives only uncertainty? Or do I finally choose me-even if it means letting go?

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines