A Message from the Void

I don’t know what to do.

Shamrock still lives in me—in my heart, my thoughts, my spirit. He’s taken up so much space that there’s barely room to breathe. I keep trying to find air, to find ground, but everything feels like drowning in the echo of a life that’s been erased.

Fourteen years.

Fourteen years of soul, body, love, rituals, seasons, ordinary days, sacred days. All of it, it seems, dissolved in under four months.

He wears a ring now. Maybe married.

That truth sits in my chest like cold stone. Not because he found someone. But because of the speed, the severing, the way he seemed able to turn the page on us without flinching—like I was a chapter he could just close. Like our sacred was forgettable.

What now?

Me? I’m still holding it all.
Still haunted by the scent of what we built. Still praying to gods that no longer answer, for a love that now belongs to someone else.

I walk through a world that’s become a hall of mirrors—everything reflecting what was, what might’ve been, what never will be again.

The confinement,

And the rules—the spiritual ones, the moral ones. I can’t even imagine opening myself to that kind of union again without feeling like I’m betraying something divine.
There is no space that feels sacred enough.
No touch that feels permitted.

What am I supposed to do with all this weight?

I need security, I need money, I need grounding—but I’m exhausted trying to survive a world that demands participation while I’m grieving a life that no longer wants me.

The loneliness doesn’t come from being alone.

It comes from the way nothing connects.
The way everything passes through me like wind through a hollow shell.
The way the world keeps moving forward like nothing happened, while I am frozen in the ruins of something that mattered.

I don’t want to be him.

But gods, I wish I could let go like he did.
Instead, I’m still here—trying to believe there’s something worth rebuilding, when the foundation was ripped out from under me.

I don’t know what to do.

- Dusty Ray 
  6/2025

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