The Silence Of Lost Feelings

The days following graduation felt like a blur, each one blending into the next. The excitement of the ceremony had long since faded, replaced by a profound emptiness that settled deep in Lumen's chest. The world outside seemed unchanged—people continued with their lives, moving forward, celebrating new beginnings. But for Lumen, everything had come to a halt.

He spent most of his time alone, retreating into the silence of his room. The weight of regret hung over him like a storm cloud, relentless and suffocating. He couldn't escape it, couldn't shake the feeling that he had made the wrong choices at every turn.

Lumen would sit for hours, staring at the sketches he had worked so hard on, his fingers hovering over the paper but never quite touching it. The portfolio he had once poured his heart into now felt like a distant memory, a reminder of a time when he had believed he could still fix things. But the act of drawing, once so effortless and natural, now felt like an impossible task. His hands were stiff, his mind blank. The passion that had once fueled his creativity had vanished, leaving only a cold void in its place.

Every sketch he tried to create felt lifeless, an echo of the art he had once made for Lina. She had been the inspiration behind every line, every stroke of his pencil. But now, with her gone from his life in the way that mattered most, the drawings had lost their meaning. They no longer held the same spark of life. Without her, the world around him felt colorless, and his art mirrored that.

The sketches in his portfolio had become a cruel reminder of what he had lost. They had once been an expression of his deepest emotions, a way for him to show Lina everything he couldn't say. But now, they were just empty lines on paper. Lumen found himself staring at them for hours, unable to make anything new. The desire to draw, the need to create, seemed to have disappeared altogether. It wasn't just the art he had lost—it was the part of himself that had been alive with possibility, with hope.

Lumen had never been the type to get angry, to lash out or to shout about his pain. Instead, he withdrew, choosing silence over confrontation. His calm nature, which had once been a source of comfort, now felt like a mask for something much darker. He found himself questioning every decision he had made, every moment when he had hesitated or turned away.

What if he had told Lina the truth? What if he had been brave enough to confess his feelings before it was too late? What if he had believed in himself the way she had believed in him? He imagined how things could have been—how they could have been. The thoughts twisted and turned in his mind, replaying over and over again, each one more painful than the last.

But no matter how many times he asked himself those questions, there were no answers. The truth was simple: he had let his fear and self-doubt control him, and in doing so, he had lost everything he truly wanted. Lina had moved on, and Lumen was left behind, trapped in a cycle of regret.

The world outside felt like a distant, foreign place. He no longer felt connected to the people around him, to his friends or even to his family. They couldn't understand the weight of what he was carrying. It wasn't just the loss of Lina—it was the loss of his own potential, his own belief in himself.

Every time Lumen tried to pick up his sketchbook, he felt the weight of that loss. It wasn't just a lack of inspiration; it was a deep, aching void inside him, a feeling that he had nothing left to give. Without Lina, without the spark she had once ignited in him, Lumen couldn't see the point of creating anything at all. His art had been for her, and now that she was gone, there was nothing left to draw.

Even the simplest of things seemed difficult. Going for a walk, something he had always done to clear his mind, felt like a monumental effort. He walked the familiar streets in a haze, the world around him blurring in his peripheral vision. The paths they had once walked together were now just reminders of what could have been, and with every step, the emptiness inside him deepened.

He thought back to the time when everything had seemed possible—the days when they had shared their dreams and their laughter, when he had felt truly seen by her. She had been the one person who had understood him without question, who had believed in him when he couldn't believe in himself. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, something that belonged to another life, to another version of himself.

Lumen had always been good at helping others, offering advice, being the calm presence that people turned to. But now, when it came to himself, he couldn't even bring himself to ask for help. The walls he had built around himself had only grown taller, stronger. He didn't want to be seen, didn't want to share the turmoil inside him with anyone else. He felt like a stranger in his own life, disconnected from everything he had once cared about.

The days turned into weeks, and still, Lumen found himself unable to draw. The emptiness lingered, a constant companion. He had lost the ability to create, to find joy in the things that had once made him feel alive. And with that loss came an even greater realization: he had lost a part of himself. A part that had once been full of hope, full of potential. And now, that part felt like a hollow shell, a faint echo of what could have been.

He would often take a walk late at night to release the weight of his chest.

Lumen couldn't bring himself to admit it, but deep down, he knew that without Lina, he didn't know who he was anymore. He had built so much of himself around the idea of her, around the belief that they could be something together. And now that she was gone, that part of him felt lost. The dreams they had shared, the future he had imagined, were gone, and with them, the part of him that had once been hopeful, creative, and full of potential.

The pain wasn't just in losing Lina—it was in losing the version of himself that had believed in the possibility of love, the version of himself that had been inspired by her. And now, that version was gone, replaced by someone unsure, someone empty.

Lumen lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had lost more than just a friend, more than just a love—he had lost the person he used to be. And in that loss, he was left with a void too vast to fill.