How do you grieve for a love that didn’t even exist?
The love that is built quietly in stolen moments, in hopes, in “what ifs” that felt so real you swore they meant something. And yet, here you are, carrying the weight of something that was never yours to begin with, trying to explain a heartbreak that has no clear ending, no official goodbye.
There are no memories you’re allowed to claim, no relationship to point to, no proof that it mattered as much as it did. But it did. It mattered in the way your chest tightened when their name appeared, in the way their hands felt in yours. You’re not just grieving a person, you’re grieving the future you created with them in your mind.
Maybe that’s what hurts the most, losing something that only you held, something you never even got the chance to keep. And that kind of heartbreak doesn’t just fade, it lingers. Because how could you even let go of something that once felt like everything?