Grieving Someone Who's Still Alive

You know my childhood stories, my heartbreaks, my dreams before I even said them out loud. You were there for the inside jokes, the late-night talks, the moments that didn't seem big at the time but became everything later.

You were familiar. Safe. Home.

Until you weren't.

And I think that's why it hurts the way it does...because losing you feels like losing something permanent. Something I thought was unbreakable.

The Shift I Didn't See Coming

There wasn't one single moment where everything shattered. It was slower than that. Subtle. A change in tone. A distance I couldn't quite name. Things said...or done...that didn't sit right in my spirit.

And then, eventually, the moment came where I couldn't ignore it anymore.

You hurt me.

Not accidentally. Not unknowingly. But in a way that forced me to see that the friendship I was holding onto...wasn't the same one I thought I had.

Loving You and Letting You Go

That's the hardest part.

I can still love you and know that I can't keep you in my life.

I can still miss you and understand that what you did crossed a line I can't uncross.

People talk about cutting people off like it's easy. Like it's empowering and clean and simple.

It's not.

It's messy and quiet and full of second-guessing. It's staring at your phone, wanting to reach out, and reminding yourself why you can't. It's replaying memories and wondering which ones were real.

It's grieving someone who is still out there, "living their best life," while you're left holding the pieces.

Missing You Doesn't Mean I Made the Wrong Choice

I still think about you.

I still remember the good.

I still feel the absence.

And maybe I always will.

But missing you doesn't mean I should go back. Loving you, doesn't mean I should accept less than I deserve.

Some people are meant to be part of your story...just not your future.

This Is What Moving On Looks Like

It's not forgetting.

It's carrying the memories without letting them pull you backward. It's honoring what was, while accepting what is. It's choosing peace, even when it feels lonely.

And maybe, one day, the pain won't feel so sharp. Maybe it will soften into something quieter...something that still aches, but doesn't break you.

Until then, I'll keep choosing myself.

Even on the days I wish I didn't have to.