Pride Ruined Everything

I’m sitting here in a room filled with noise ..
not the noise of voices,
but of memories,
echoes,
and the sound of a heart breaking quietly inside my chest.

And all I can do…
is cry.

No pen, no paper, no words.
Just tears.
Heavy, hot, and helpless.

And God…
how I wish my tears could write.

Because if they could, maybe they’d pour out the things I can’t say out loud.
The things my throat swallows out of pride.
The apologies I bury beneath my ego.
The grief I pretend not to feel.

I’m trying I swear,
I am
to write it all out, to let the pain leak through my pen,
but I can’t even see the paper.

The tears blur every line.
Every word smudges.
And I just sit here ..
with shaking hands and a shattered spirit ,
watching the page drown in everything I never had the courage to say.

Do you know what it’s like to be hurt by someone’s words,but also to be the one who hurt them first?

To say something in a flash of anger,to hear your words
in your own ears a second too late,
and feel your heart drop because you know you can’t take it back?

I do.

And worse …
I know what it’s like to realize I’m wrong…
but still refuse to say “I’m sorry”
because I don’t want to feel small.

So instead…
I let it eat me alive.
I let my silence build walls where there should’ve been bridges.
I let my pride choose victory over connection.

But it’s not a victory
It’s a funeral.
And I’m burying every version of us

that could’ve survived if only I had chosen love
over ego.

I’m losing people not because they stopped caring,
but because I didn’t show that I still do.
And I’ve hurt people who were only trying to understand me.

And the worst part?
I broke trust …
not because I wanted to,
but because I didn’t know how to hold it properly.
I didn’t mean to break it.
But
I did.

And now all I can do is sit here,
watching the damage
and wishing I knew how to fix what I never meant to harm.

Sometimes I wonder
if I had just cried in front of them instead of after they walked away,
would they have stayed?

If I accepted my mistake and faced the consequences,
maybe ,
maybe everything would be alright.

But I never show them the tears.
I save them for now ,
alone, behind locked doors,when no one can seehow deeply I regret.

And here I am,
pen in hand,still wishing.

Wishing my tears could write the apology I waited too long to say.
Wishing they could explain the chaos in my chest when I chose silence.
Wishing they could scream the things I can’t .

They wouldn’t.

Because maybe if my tears could write,
this wouldn’t be the ending.
Maybe I wouldn’t be clinging to memories.
Maybe I wouldn’t be grieving someone who is still alive,
friendships that still exist.

Maybe then, this wouldn’t feel like a goodbye I never got to say.