I used to think I’d never get over you.
Honestly, I really believed that.
Back then everything felt heavier,
like losing you meant losing the part of myself
that knew how to breathe.
And there was love.
Real love.
True love.
The kind that shows up in small ways
and makes you feel you found your person.
I won’t pretend that didn’t matter.
But somewhere along the line,
we were holding on to memories
instead of each other.
I kept trying to make sense of something
that had already unraveled,
and I didn’t want to admit it.
Now I look back
and I’m not angry,
I’m not sad,
I just don’t understand
why I stayed so long in a version of us
that no longer existed.
I guess that’s how it goes sometimes:
you outgrow the ache,
you outgrow the story,
and one day you realize
you’re already on the other side.
