A part of me always thought that maybe over time my parents would get back together.
Which became a shattered dream the moment my mom started dating.
But the divorce never really hit me properly you know.
No one ever properly told me they split. Not my own family. Not anyone. I had to just figure it out myself as everyone tried to shelter me with lies like “we’re only just living apart for work”, “they still love each other” etc.
So I dreamt. So I hoped… that maybe everything was false. I clung to that one false hope that maybe they hadn’t actually properly split. My mind told me “no. what’s done is done” but I still wished.
The moment when it actually and truly hit me was when I moved to Korea for a year.
Until then maybe I was mentally in denial. But it hit me like concrete. We moved in with my mom’s then-boyfriend-but-now-ex and she told me I had to call him dad.
The moment she said that, I could literally feel a sharp stab to my heart (and I still feel it now to be honest)…
Read the whole thing here: Then it hit me