much. I thought I was prepared, that I had braced myself for the end. We both saw it coming, didn’t we? It wasn’t some explosive breakup. There were no screaming matches, no accusations. Just this quiet, steady drift. We went from late-night calls to unread messages, from sharing everything to awkward small talk. I remember the last time we met. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. I asked if you were okay, and you said you were just tired.
Maybe I should have fought for you. Maybe I should have tried harder, said something, done something. But I didn’t. I was scared of pushing you away even
more. So I stayed quiet, hoping you would come back on your own. You didn’t.I keep replaying those last moments in my head, trying to figure out where it went wrong. Was it something I said? Was it just time pulling us apart? Or did you find someone who made you feel the way I never could?
I keep telling myself I’ll get over it. That it’s just a phase. That I won’t always feel this emptiness. But everywhere I look, I see pieces of you. The playlist you made me, your sweatshirt I still haven’t returned, the messages I can’t bring myself to delete. I keep checking your profile, even though I know it will just hurt. I keep writing messages I’ll never send.
I don’t even know who I am without you anymore. That’s the worst part. I built so much of my life around us, around you, that now I feel like
I’m just… lost. Like I’m standing in the wreckage of something that was once beautiful, wondering if I’ll ever find something like it again.But I know I have to let go. I have to stop looking for you in every stranger’s smile, stop hoping you’ll suddenly miss me. I have to remember who I was before I met you. I just… I wish letting go didn’t feel like losing a part of myself.
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