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Hello, Monday....

I hate you. Not just because of the work piling up—but because today, I end up with that familiar weight again.
I cried. Quietly.
Not for attention. Not for help. Just because the pain needed somewhere to go.

I thought I was past this.
I thought I had healed.
But one tiny trigger, and suddenly I was there again—
Back in the version of me who wasn’t enough.
Back in the moment where love felt one-sided.
Back where I started to disappear just to be chosen.

I know it sounds tired. I know people have it worse.
But this… this ache? It’s sharp.
It tells me I’m unlovable, even when I know that’s not true.
It makes silence feel like rejection. Distance feel like punishment.

God,
I haven’t moved on—not fully.
I’ve functioned. I’ve laughed. I’ve shown up.
But I’m still carrying pieces of something that broke me.

Please…
Heal this.
I can’t keep cycling through this pain every time I try to open up again.

Some days, I’d rather stay numb.
Because the ghosts?
They don’t knock—they barge in.
And suddenly I’m small again.
Scared again.
Not because of who left,
but because of who I became trying to be loved.

And today?
I feel defeated.
Not by anyone else.
But by the memory of never feeling enough.

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