The last sound I remember hearing was his footsteps fading away into the distance, swift and distant, like a dry leaf blown by the wind. His final words, “Goodbye,” still echo in my mind, as if they were spoken yesterday, even though time has passed.
I once thought that memories would be enough to keep him close the laughter, the conversations, the little moments that filled our days. But time has a way of erasing even the brightest parts of life. Those moments are now nothing more than shadows, fading into the background, wiped away by the steady march of time.
They say time heals all wounds, that it mends broken hearts. But I’ve learned that time doesn’t heal; it only quiets the pain. The scars remain, even if they aren’t as sharp. The promise that everything will be okay has always felt like a lie to me. I don’t believe in its comfort.
Life has a cruel way of surprising you, doesn’t it? Who could have predicted that it would end like this in sorrow, in regret, and in silence? The promises we made, the plans we once believed in all shattered when he left. Gone without a sound. No more calls, no messages, no voice to reach out to me. He vanished, like a ghost disappearing without a trace.
I never believed in ghosts, in spirits or anything that lives in the shadows of memory. But now? Now I understand. Because he is the ghost of my past, haunting me with memories of what we once were a love that no longer exists.
Some people told me they’d seen him, that he had moved on. Hearing this was like salt in an already open wound. I never imagined he could walk away so easily, leaving behind the very things that once meant the world to us. The truth of it was too much to bear, so I refused to believe it until I could no longer deny it.
Love is such a strange thing. It can feel so pure, so real, but then it can turn into something painful, something that leaves you empty. I used to pray, hoping he would come back. I lit candles, whispered his name, and cried for the love we lost, hoping somehow he would hear me, feel me, return to me. But he never did.
And now, I have to accept the truth. I have to gather the broken pieces of my heart, the fragments of who I was before he left, and learn to live without him. It hurts more than I ever thought it would, but I know it’s the only way forward.
He is gone. But a part of him will always remain not in the way I once dreamed, not in the way I hoped. But in my memories, in the empty spaces he left behind, he will live on as the ghost of my past.
And maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.