Holding what doesn’t exist

And today… it sucks.

Not in the loud way the world expects,

but in the quiet ache beneath your ribs,

where hope still tries to breathe.

You lie there,hugging a pillow like it could answer back,like its softness could whisper, “I’m here.”But it never does—it only absorbs the weight of everythingyou wish someone would understand.

The room feels heavier when silence wins. The clock doesn’t comfort; it only reminds you that another day slipped away, and loneliness stayed.

You start to wonder— how can something so invisible hurt this much? How can you miss a heartbeat you’ve never heard beside you?

Still, you hold that pillow tight, pretending it’s warmth, pretending it’s love. Because sometimes pretending is the only thing that keeps you human— the only proof you still remember how it feels to want, and to be wanted.

And maybe tomorrow won’t be softer, but tonight— you exist, you feel, you survive. And that, somehow, is a kind of love too.