Member-only story
The First Week After a Breakup: My Rawest Thoughts
An honest look at the first seven days of heartbreak and healing.
Day one felt like a punch. I didn’t expect it to hit that hard, but it did. The silence was the loudest part. No texts. No, “did you eat?” No “good morning.” I sat on my bed, staring at the phone like it owed me something. I kept checking it. Nothing came. That was the first time it sank in — this was real.
By day two, I couldn’t eat much. My chest was heavy. I watched people walking outside, laughing, talking, and living. I felt invisible. I played old songs, the ones we used to listen to, like I wanted to torture myself. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I thought crying would help. It didn’t. It just made me feel more stuck.
Day three, I texted my friend. I told her I wasn’t okay. She said, “I’m coming over.” We didn’t talk about it much. She just sat with me, handed me tea, and we watched dumb reality shows. I didn’t laugh, but I did feel a little less alone.
On day four, I found a picture of us in my phone. I stared at it for too long. We looked happy. We were happy. At least I thought we were. Then I remembered how things changed — the fights, the silence, the pretending. I deleted the photo. Not out of anger. I just didn’t want it staring back at me anymore.
