Beyond Repair

There will come a time — not tomorrow, not next century, but eventually — when no trace of you will exist. Your name, your voice, your memories, your choices, all of it will dissolve. Even the stories you told yourself about being remembered by someone, anyone, will disappear. Civilizations will collapse. Cities will return to dust. And even the sun, the same one you once looked up at in moments of quiet longing, will explode into silence.

No one will be left to recall your laughter. Or theirs. Or what you meant to each other in the brief flicker of time you were allowed to exist.

And yet, you feel it. You know it. That even now, they think about you. That they still carry you in some remote, irrational part of themselves. That maybe — just maybe — they need you more than you ever needed them. But that’s not how this story goes.

It never was.

The stars do not negotiate with longing. The universe does not bend for mutual regret. Whatever existed between you two — if anything ever truly did — it was already sentenced long before either of you knew how to spell each other’s names. You were not abandoned. You were edited out by a design too vast, too unbothered, to explain itself.

This isn’t bitterness. It’s just math. It’s physics. A calculation of timing, distance, and entropy. You pulled. They pulled. And still, the planets didn’t align. Because they weren’t meant to. Because this was never going to end any other way.

You still catch yourself imagining a different version of it — a conversation that should’ve happened, a message they almost sent. But the truth is, you both surrendered the moment you believed fate was something you could outgrow. And now? Now you’re just a memory they suppress in daylight and revisit in dreams. Quietly. Privately. Pointlessly.

Maybe in another universe, the two of you worked out. The face you keep on imagining and the conversation and their smile would all be as it. Maybe in another timeline, you held on. But in this one — the only one that matters — you drifted exactly the way the stars intended.