I am afraid that I am becoming numb.

Not cruel.
Not heartless.
Just… unfeeling in places where I used to overflow.

You cry and instead of rushing to comfort you, I feel irritation prick at the edges of me first. You look exhausted and part of me notices, but not enough to truly care the way I used to. You are hurting and yes, somewhere deep down there is still a twinge of sympathy, but it no longer moves me into action like it once did. And that terrifies me.

Because I remember a version of myself that would have dropped everything for you. A version that would have sat beside you for hours. Softened immediately at the sound of your pain. Reached for you without hesitation. Loved you loudly, instinctively, almost recklessly. Now I hesitate. Now I help because I know I should, not because my heart is pulling me toward you at full speed.

What happened to me?

Or maybe the scarier question is:

What happened to us? Is this what falling out of love feels like?

Not explosive.
Not dramatic.
Not one singular moment where the music swells and everything shatters. But quieter than that. A slow dimming. Like a house where one light burns out at a time until eventually you realize you are standing in the dark.

Sometimes I cannot even look at you without feeling resentment crawling beneath my skin. Old disappointments. Old wounds. Repeated conversations that changed nothing. Tiny fractures that piled on top of one another until they became impossible to ignore.

And then you leave the house for a while… and all I feel is relief.

Relief.

God, that feels horrible to admit out loud.

But there it is.

Relief that the room is quiet.
Relief that no one needs anything from me.
Relief that for a few small hours I can exist only for myself instead of constantly carrying the emotional weight of another person beside my own.

And maybe that is the answer, isn’t it?

Maybe people do not suddenly stop loving someone all at once. Maybe the mind begins leaving long before the heart catches up. Maybe exhaustion slowly replaces devotion until one day the absence of someone feels lighter than their presence. My mind has been screaming for a long time now.

Enough.
Enough hurting.
Enough repeating cycles.
Enough abandoning yourself to keep someone else comfortable.

And perhaps my heart, stubborn and loyal and painfully hopeful, is finally beginning to listen.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

But listening all the same.

— Bella Imperia

---