The Delulu Phase: He’s My Soulmate (The Tarot Said So)

I still checked his stories.
Still checked to see if he checked mine.
Because if he’s watching, that means something, right?
It has to.
People don’t just disappear and keep tabs for no reason. Right?

I can’t let it go.
Not yet.

Somewhere in my mind, I’m convinced I did something wrong.
That if I could just figure it out.
If I could just fix the thing…
he’d come back.
We’d reset.
We’d pick up where we left off.
Rewrite the ending.

Because I fix things.
It’s what I do.
I reach people.
I know how to navigate walls and weird silences
I’ve done it my whole life.

And I should know better.
God, I do know better.
But heartbreak makes logic seem like a joke.
It tells you maybe this time,
your love is enough to change the outcome.

So naturally… I went back to YouTube.
But this time, it wasn’t avoidant attachment videos.
No. I had graduated to horoscope tarot love readings.
Don’t judge me.
“Pile three—if you picked the amethyst crystal, this message is for you.”

And apparently, it was.
Every card said he was thinking about me.
Every reader said, “He’s your divine counterpart.”
“He’s watching you from a distance.”
“He’s coming back. He just needs time.”

He wanted to reach out… but didn’t.
He missed me… but was scared.
He knew he messed up… but didn’t know how to fix it.

I ate it up. All of it.
Each reading gave me just enough hope to hang on.
Just enough to believe that this story wasn’t over.
That all I had to do was be patient.
Glow up. Heal. Level up.

And like clockwork, he’d come back.
Just be patient.
Just. Be. Patient.

So I started curating my healing.
Posted just enough on stories to look radiant but unbothered.
Made sure I always looked cute… just in case.
Started planning a comeback story that centered me,
but secretly hoped he was the audience.

Because the tarot said he’d find his way back.
And honestly, I needed to believe that,
even if it was a bold-faced lie.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He’s My True Love… He Just Don’t Know It Yet.

(This whole phase is in a song - listen to “Delulu” by BANKS)

This is the part where delusion turns into strategy.
Where you stop crying and start plotting.
Where your “glow up” becomes a full-blown campaign
for the version of you he never should’ve fucked with.

Because hell no, you’re not about to be the one who lost.
You’re gonna be the one that got away.
The one that haunts him.

Because you can’t let the world know
you’re this hung up on a man you barely even dated.
That he had you in a chokehold after a few months.
That he still has space in your head.

So instead, you curate.
You post thirst traps.
You imply peace while quietly falling apart.
Because maybe, just maybe,
he’ll see what he lost and come crawling back,
like Baba Jolie’s Guided Tarot said he would.

He’s gonna come back.

But let’s be real:
You didn’t lose him.
You lost a fantasy of the future.
A version of you who finally believed love was real.

And now?
You’re desperately trying to prove it wasn’t all in your head.
That something real did happen.
That there was a genuine connection.
That it was just one big misunderstanding.
If only you had the chance to talk about it.
Tell him how you really feel.
Maybe you could fix it.

Maybe…
because the last time, with him,
it ended with silence too.

Mr. Almost.
The one who had the first go at shattering my heart
and left me to patch it up in pieces.
The one I never fully recovered from.
I swore the next time would be different.
That if I just got it right, I’d be enough.
Enough to choose. Enough to fight for.

And maybe that’s what this whole thing has been about.
Not just getting this one back…
but proving I’ve healed enough to finally be loved right.