Between a Heartbreak and a Deadline

There’s so much I want to say, but I haven’t had the space or clarity to express it. Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed—buried under the weight of deadlines, demands, and the mental exhaustion of dissertation writing. And just when I’m trying to find calm, someone from my past keeps reaching out, asking if there's still a chance for us, if we could revisit the idea of getting back together.

Honestly, I had found peace. I was finally moving freely—calm, grounded, and without the anxiety that once clouded everything. My only focus was on my dissertation, and for the first time in a long time, I was okay with that. But the persistent messages, the emotional pull, it stirred up memories I thought I had already let go of.

Still, I know where I stand. I’ve made my decision based on what I need right now—and that is clarity, peace, and focus. I won’t deny that I feel a sense of guilt, maybe even sadness, for no longer feeling anything when I try to look back. But I also know I gave what I could. Maybe I wasn’t whole back then in 2021 when we tried again. Maybe I was trying to heal while holding on. And maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally learned that some things happen the way they do for a reason.

Right now, my dissertation is my priority. I only have three months to finalize my study design and prepare for my proposal defense. I don’t have room—emotionally or mentally—for another breakdown. The smallest waves of anxiety or sadness already feel like too much. That’s why I’ve chosen to say no. Not out of anger or bitterness, but out of honesty. I have to be real with myself now. I have to live my truth.

This has been one of the hardest lessons of my life—but it’s also the most important. I learned it the difficult way, but I learned it deeply. This time, it’s different. I understand now that some things are beyond our control. And though I wish I could be angry, I’m not. I just can’t hold onto those emotions anymore.

All I want right now is to move forward, even if it’s just in one direction: toward my defense, toward my goals, toward becoming the person I’m meant to be.

And maybe that’s also what love is.

To love someone doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, it’s letting go—for both your sakes. Real love isn’t always loud or romantic; sometimes it’s quiet and painful. It’s accepting that timing, healing, or personal growth may pull you apart. I did love—fully, imperfectly, sincerely—but I also love myself enough now to choose what’s best for me. If love is real, it doesn’t need to end with bitterness. It can simply rest in gratitude, in the hope that both people find peace, even if it’s separately.