Chasing Forever

What is Love?

I sat there, lost in the weight of my thoughts and the ache in my heart. You made me happy the day I met you. You made me happy through every moment we spent together. But on that last day of December, you made me cry.

Did we lose trust in who we were, in the love we built? Or was there someone else?

I sat beside you in bed, watching you, listening to the quiet between us. I reached out, touched you—searching for the love, anything but the warmth I once knew felt distant. I stayed, letting my tears fall silently, never telling you why. And then, before the sun rose, I left.

In the car, I let it all out. My hands clenched the steering wheel as I whispered the truth to myself: I can't fix your happiness. I tried.

By morning, my face was raw—eyes swollen, skin streaked red from tears. Exhaustion weighed me down, making it hard to even get out of bed. But somehow, I did.

I stood in the bathroom, staring at my reflection, barely recognizing myself. Then, memories came rushing back—how I used to set my phone by the mirror, laughing and snickering over whatever silly news. Back when things were easy. Back when I still had you.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I held inside. I threw things to the floor—anything I could grab—like I could shatter the memories along with them. But they stayed. They always stayed.

Why? Just why?

You are replaceable. That's what I told myself. But you were real. Every word you spoke about our future felt real. You made me believe in something, in us. And now... now it's all just noise echoing in my head.

You know, I tried counseling—to sort through my feelings, to move on. I told her I was healing, that I was getting better. A lie. The truth was, I was still drowning in everything I never said, in everything I never let go of. And in secret, I knew—I was nowhere close to moving on.

The man leans slightly forwards, resting his hands on the desk, and looks directly into the camera. The screen fades from black, revealing a well-dressed man sitting behind a sleek desk. A city skyline stretches behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden glow of sunset reflecting off the glass. He leans slightly forward, resting his hands on the desk, and looks directly into the camera.

"Business is simple," he begins, his voice steady and confident. "You solve a problem, you create value, and people will pay for that value. But do not mistake simple for easy. Because here is the truth. Most businesses fail. Not because the idea was bad, but because the execution was weak."

I tapped the space bar on my computer to pause the video, staring at the frozen image on the screen. Then, without hesitation, I pressed the delete button. I no longer needed it. College was over. That part of my life was over.

But why had I kept it for so long?

I sat there for a moment, fingers resting on the keys, trying to understand what made me hold on to something that no longer mattered. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was something else.

After deleting the video, I started clearing out old files, scrolling through folders I had not touched in years. That was when I came across them—pictures of him. Without thinking, I deleted them too. One by one, wiping away the memories that had once meant everything.

The bell above the door jingled as it swung open, marking the arrival of another customer.

"I am telling you, what I heard..." The voice cut through the noise of the cafe, drawing attention to a group of kids gathered around a round table near the window. Their voices carried across the room, a casual chatter and the kind of thoughtful reflections that only come with youth.