Day 118 — The Forgotten Kiss

Day 118 — The Forgotten Kiss

I only ever wanted a kiss. How innocent, right? From the moment I met her, my feelings grew. And with each passing moment, so did the desire for that kiss. I can’t even fully put it into words—it sounds silly when I try. But as time passed and my world spiraled into chaos, the notion of that kiss became a lifeline. It wasn’t just a romantic idea; it was my anchor, my escape.

When isolation became unbearable, when my mind raced and spiraled into darkness, I’d close my eyes. I could see that moment, feel it pulsing through me as if it were about to happen. But just as it reached me—just as I felt it—it would vanish. My mind would go blank, or I’d wake up from the dream. Always just out of reach.

When I set out on my mission to make it back to my friend, to her, that kiss was my fuel. I’d crafted this elaborate, almost laughable Hallmark-worthy reunion in my mind. But in the depths of my struggle, it was all I had to keep going. I didn’t realize then, but during my desperate pursuit of that kiss, I forgot something far more important: how to love myself.

Love myself? That’s still a foreign concept to me. Quite frankly, it feels like a language I’ll never understand. And yet, I still long for that kiss. I still hold onto hope because, well… how can I not? Letting go feels like admitting it was all in my head—that I was crazy. That the spark, the connection, was never real. That she didn’t give me her eyes, her energy—that I just needed to believe it because I was lost and broken.

“All about me,” she said once. And she was right. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but I couldn’t see it then. I couldn’t understand. I was trapped—trapped in my mind, my addiction, my pain. And now, I’m further from that kiss than I’ve ever been, trying my best to let go because it’s what she deserves. Because I don’t want to be selfish anymore.

But letting go feels impossible when the connection I felt is indescribable. Solitary confinement, major depression, addiction, and physical immobility… that’s a cocktail for a fractured mind. And maybe that’s why I’m so afraid. Afraid that it wasn’t real. Afraid that I created it all in my head.

Even though, deep down, I know I didn’t.

I miss my friend. And I’m trying to let go because it’s the only way forward—the only way I might find peace and, maybe, someday, find her again. That’s what I’ve told myself since the beginning. But letting go feels like losing her forever. And I can’t make that make sense to me.

Day 118

One Step. One Punch. One Round. 🌹

—Your Fellow Traveler