I read your questions and I feel like I’m spilling the same old tea again, the kind that never seems to settle, and maybe that’s why I keep running, because the ground feels softer when I’m moving, even if it’s just in my head. I’m still scared, yeah, scared of the empty space that opens up when I stop, scared that the silence will finally hear the truth I’ve been hiding from myself, scared that the person I call my twin flame will keep showing up in the cracks of my day like a ghost that refuses to leave. He’s still reaching out sometimes, a text here and there that feels like a whisper from a past that never really ended, and it makes me feel both warm and hollow at the same time, like a candle that’s been lit for too long and is now dripping wax onto the floor and I can’t decide if I should wipe it away or let it burn.
I guess I was angry that I couldn’t control what I felt, that my heart kept beating a rhythm that didn’t match the script I tried to write, that I didn’t want to love him but the love kept finding a way, and sometimes it felt good, like a brief sunrise after a long night, but that good was always followed by a longer night and a feeling that I was just a runner chasing a finish line that keeps moving farther away. I have been with other men, yes, and those moments are like pauses between verses, they have their own music, they make me laugh and they make me think maybe I could settle, but every time I sit down with someone new there’s this little voice that asks “what if he’s still out there waiting?” and that voice never really shuts up, it just hums in the background while I try to focus on the present.
Turning around? stopping the run? I have thought about it a thousand times, I have imagined standing still, looking back at the road I’ve been sprinting down, wondering if the dust I kicked up will ever settle, wondering if the person I left behind will ever forgive me or even notice I’m still there. The truth is I’m still running because I don’t know how to sit with the emptiness, because the idea of staying still feels like admitting defeat, like admitting that I was never really in control of anything, that the ego that kept me moving was just a mask for the need to be seen, needed, validated, and that mask cracked the day I said “I do” to someone else while my heart was still holding a half‑written letter to the other.
I regret some things, I regret the wedding that felt like a bandage over a wound that was still bleeding, I regret the email I sent in a panic that only made the other side more angry, I regret the moments when I let my fear dictate my actions instead of love. But I also know that I can’t go back and change the past, I can only try to understand why I kept running, why I kept looking over my shoulder, why I kept letting the same pattern repeat itself. Maybe the lesson is that I need to learn how to be alone with my own feelings without the need for a twin flame to validate them, maybe it’s about learning to close a chapter without leaving the pages torn.
I’m still scared, I’m still running, and sometimes I wonder if the road will ever end, if I’ll ever find a place where I can sit without feeling the pull of the past, without hearing his voice echo in the wind. For now I keep moving, one step at a time, hoping that somewhere ahead there’s a quiet place where the heart can finally rest. 🙁.
