After a long conversation, I realized that I have to face reality and move on. Time doesn't stop, and neither can I. But for me, everything seemed to stop the moment I was forced to accept the truth.
I learned the hard way that having half of something is better than having nothing at all. Maybe I'll carry these scars for the rest of my life, but it is what it is.
Part of me always knew this might happen someday. Another part of me convinced itself that I was just overthinking, that it would never actually happen. What I didn't expect was for it to happen so soon.
Every day, by the end of it, I feel a little better. But when I go to sleep and wake up the next morning, everything resets-the pain, the confusion, the mix of emotions. I don't know how long this cycle will last, but it's already better than those first ten days.
I believe that one day I'll wake up and the confusion will be gone. The feelings may still be there, but they won't control me anymore.
For now, though, some days are still harder than others. Sometimes I catch myself reaching for my phone for no reason, only to remember there's nothing waiting for me anymore. Sometimes a random song, a place, or even a stupid little thing I never paid attention to before brings everything back for a moment.
What motivates me the most is how normal the world continues to be. People go to work, laugh with their friends, make plans for the weekend, and carry on with their lives. Meanwhile, there were days when I felt like my entire world had collapsed. It felt strange knowing that something so significant to me could change absolutely nothing for everyone else. I know that it doesn't make sense, but yeah. It's just how I felt.
I've spent a lot of time replaying everything in my head, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. The truth is, no amount of replaying the past changes what happened. It only keeps me stuck in a place that no longer exists.
I still miss what I had. I still miss the version of myself that existed before all of this. But little by little, I'm starting to accept that missing something doesn't mean I have to chase it. Sometimes it just means it mattered.
I don't think healing is going to happen all at once. There won't be a specific morning where everything magically disappears. It'll probably happen so slowly that I won't even notice it. One day I'll go a few hours without thinking about it. Then a whole day. Then maybe a week. And one day I'll look back and realize that the weight I've been carrying isn't as heavy as it used to be.
I don't want to forget. I don't think I ever will. But I hope that eventually these memories become something I can look at without feeling like they're tearing me apart. I hope they become just another chapter of my life instead of the page I keep rereading.
And until then, all I can really do is keep moving forward, even on the days when it feels like I'm standing still.