Goodbye, Belgium.

I’ve just moved into my new home.

Coats and pants have been hung, tees and underwear have been folded and put away in the drawers. My old toothbrush is in the trash – new home, new toothbrush. I have a new desk to study and to work from. Great kitchen, great bathroom, great bedroom, great housemates.

Excitement should be running all over my body, but it’s not. Instead, there is a numbness cursing through my veins, stubbornly making the start of this new phase in my life entirely gray.

“How do you know if you can trust people?”

“Well, that’s the thing about trust… You put your faith in people, seeing the best in them, believing them when they say they are sorry and that they want a second chance, a fresh start… You hope for the best. And, if they screw up again, then it’s not the person who did the trusting’s fault… It’s shame on the other person for breaking their promise; shame on them for lying.”

I gave away the most precious things I have to offer to anyone – my complete trust, my caring, my support. In return for all this, in the end, I saw people I love getting hurt for no goddamn reason, and also saw how incredibly naive I’d been.

Apologising to everyone that got hurt for the part I played in the whole situation doesn’t make my self-loathing and self-doubt go away. How did it it go from everyone is so fucking happy to we are all fucking hurting? I did the only thing that was in my power to do – I left. Without proper goodbyes nor closure.

So now, one second I’m fine, entertained by all the distractions that moving to a new city grants me. The next second, I’m curled up on the floor, drowning in questions I can’t answer, crying, holding myself so tightly that my fingernails carve into my skin because if I let go of myself I will fall apart. Break into a million pieces. And there will be no around to put them back together, because it’s just me, myself and I again.

How could I have been so stupid to have put myself in this situation. How. Why couldn’t I have seen it coming. Am I unable to tell the good from the bad. Was I just a marionette, a pawn in a carefully concocted plan to achieve… Whatever?? Were we not friends at all?

Heal faster this time, please.”, a voice whispers in my mind.

How? When I’m still trying to understand? How, without closure?

Except… I’ll never have closure.

I asked so many questions the last times we spoke, and you never answered them. I suppose the only thing I can do now is try to wrap all of the mess inside my mind and all the betrayal that makes my heart ache, bottle it up and toss it away. Let them drown in the ocean, rather than let myself drown in thoughts tied up to you.

Though the clouds might be gray in Düsseldorf right now, I will do my best to not let my mood match them. Every conversation in which I’ve ever mentioned your name is gone from my phone and you’re hundred of miles away now. You made a mistake by using me, I made a mistake by putting myself in a position to be used. That’s okay, though, because we are humans, we make mistakes. Lesson learned.

It’s a new city, a new school, and new people.

I don’t owe anything to anyone anymore. My birthday is coming soon, too, so… I guess I’ll take all of this and force myself to embrace the fresh start.

I’ll try my best to not loathe myself for breaking down in tears while randomly walking in the streets, while cooking or even while sleeping. Because these tears aren’t for you, they are for me, for being stupidly trusting, for grieving the huge chunk of innocence that I just lost. The huge chunk of innocence I wrongly held on to, despite past traumas. I think my body’s still in shock by how sudden everything was.  These tears are also for grieving the loss of a friend I cared so much about. It hurts. It. Really. Fucking. Hurts. How do I make it stop?

This will not be the last time your name lingers on my mind.

And it lingers as I hold my phone wanting to ask you “Can you please explain me everythingWhat happened to our friendship?“. Though it seems to me that if you cared enough to answer any of that, you would’ve done so already… Right?


This is me pushing myself to heal faster because I deserve it. Everyone who got hurt by this unreasonable mess does.

Including you. ♡

Page 66 of  #thesunandherflowers, by Rupi Kaur. PREORDER:



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