Res Judicata
Last July, I relapsed. I went back to the same person who has hurt me over and over again for more than fifteen years. I don’t even know how long exactly; it feels like forever. I let myself believe that maybe this time would be different. But it wasn’t. They broke me again.
And yet, this heartbreak feels different.
Before, every ending carried a little bit of hope. I would tell myself it just wasn’t the right time, that maybe one day when circumstances changed, we would finally work out. I would convince myself that if I became better, stronger, more “worthy,” maybe then this person would love me the way I loved them. I always left space for a return, for another chapter.
But this time, there’s no illusion. Our last conversation didn’t end in shouting or blame. It ended in silence. A silence that spoke louder than words, one that made it clear that we both understood: there is no future for us. It’s final. Truly final. And for the first time, I believe it.
Oddly enough, I feel a quiet sense of peace in that finality.
The difference now is that I’m not trying to hold on. I’m not shaping myself into someone I think they’ll love. I’m not moving forward in hopes of winning them back. This time, I’m moving forward for me.
The pain is still here. It’s heavy, sharp, and real. But instead of feeling like punishment, it feels like a lesson. It’s showing me what I deserve, reminding me that love should not mean returning to the same cycle of heartbreak over and over. This time, I’m choosing to break that cycle.
I know healing won’t be easy. There will be days when I’ll feel the urge to look back, to wonder “what if.” But I also know that I will come out of this stronger. Stronger because I finally understand the power of walking away. Stronger because I’m no longer waiting at a closed door. Stronger because I’m choosing myself.
Someday, maybe, I’ll find someone who meets me where I am, someone who sees my worth without conditions, someone who loves me fully and faithfully. But until then, I’ll pour that energy into myself. I’ll grow, I’ll heal, and I’ll learn to love myself in ways I once hoped someone else would.
This is the end of us. And this time, it’s truly the end. But it’s also the beginning of me.
