The Death of a Friendship
Weekly Diary Entry
Today, I only seem to feel a sharp pain in my heart—a stinging, a burning, like exposed flesh meeting water.
Like the sun burning my ghoulish skin.
Like being reminded of how utterly empty I am. Raw pain.
Being reminded that you hate me, that you no longer love nor want me as a friend, feels akin to a punch to the chest, one strong enough to make me vomit my organs: the kind of loneliness that leaves me so empty I can’t remember who I am. There is no comfort nor discomfort, simply melancholy and numbing disappointment—as if standing at the edge of the world.
