The Hole In My Soul

The Restless Night

The Restless Night

It’s 2:47 AM.

I’m rolling all over the bed, staring at the ceiling, the fan, the shadows on the wall. Sleep refuses to touch me.

I don’t know what to do.

I can’t live without Ethan… but my dignity won’t let me be treated like a doormat.

Fifteen years. Fifteen long years of my life given to a man who replaced me as easily as you’d replace an old photograph in a frame.

And the worst part? I could have done something better with my life if I hadn’t accepted his marriage proposal just because I didn’t have any dreams or aims of my own back then.

I never even gave myself the chance to ask what I wanted.

But now… what do I do?

While writing this down in my diary, a strange thought crossed my mind.

I remembered something — something I’d buried deep beneath routines, kitchen chores, and the sound of Ethan’s footsteps.

I graduated in English Literature.

Once upon a time, I loved to read. To write. To lose myself in the world of words and stories.

Could I… could I still have that spark inside me?

Can I really mourn for what’s gone and also fight for what’s ahead?

Maybe I can.

And maybe, just maybe, I can start right here, right now — by writing my own life story in this diary.

Page by page.

Tear by tear.

Word by word.

If no one else wants to listen to my story, at least these pages will.