It's another morning.
The sun filtered in, soft and indifferent, with it's orange and golden hue
and for the first time, I realized
I didn't want much.
I just wanted someone
I could be childish with.
Someone I could laugh with,
lean on without shrinking,
love without losing pieces of myself.
But with you,
I was always reaching.
Always performing.
Trying so hard to stir up your emotions
that I forgot what mine even felt like.
I used to feel things so deeply.
Butterflies.
Smiles out of nowhere.
Peace in simple silence.
But somewhere along the way,
I lost that.
I lost me.
Because I was thinking about you too much.
Wondering why you couldn't text back.
Why you read my messages
but never replied.
Why I kept checking my phone
like your words would somehow fix the ache.
You became my morning ritual,
my afternoon distraction,
my night-time ache.
You weren't my smile.
You were the reason it started fading.
I walked through my days
carrying the weight of your absence
my peace,
my joy,
my focus
all tied around the question of you.
What were you doing
that you couldn't spare me a moment?
What did I do, that made silence your language?
I used to be present in my own life.
But with you,
my thoughts stopped being mine.
They belonged to you, even when you didn't ask for them.
And then I realized…
I wasn't in your thoughts at all.
While you were out there,
untouched,
unbothered,
I was still holding on.
To memories.
To maybe.
To a version of you
that I created out of hope and silence.
But at some point,
love becomes less about feeling
and more about choice.
And I only had two:
Either I move on,
or I let go.
There was no third option.
No maybe.
No "wait and see."
So here I am.
Not waiting.
Not hoping.
Just… letting go.
Not because it's easy,
but because holding on to someone
who isn't holding on to you,
isn't love.
It's self-abandonment.
And today, I choose me.
Even if it breaks my heart.