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Not like the first. When everything shattered, and I let someone else carry what I didn’t know how to hold. Even if I wasn’t ready to let it go. Not like the second. When I still believed that loving harder might fix what was already broken. That if I gave more, you’d come back whole. Not because I’ve healed, too. Definitely not because it stopped hurting. But because even forgetting started to feel like pretending. This isn’t the first time I’ve lost you. But I guess this is the first time I’m not trying to win you back. Not by becoming someone you might’ve stayed for. I’ve tried all of it. I’ve rewritten memories. I’ve blamed timing. I’ve blamed myself. I’ve begged reality to bend. It didn’t. Because time moves fast but it wounds slowly. It only makes it easier to carry around in public. I still don’t know how far this goes. Or what healing is supposed to look like. I just know I’ve stopped chasing the end of it. And I don’t believe anymore that pai...

But I've stepped out of his gravity. There was a time I thought I'd shine brighter orbiting his. As if light only made sense when it came from his direction. Maybe now, I want to be the sea. Or maybe dust. A part of everything  and owed to no one.  Maybe a voice, a line between letters. Or a scent that lingers in the doorway, long after I've left. Maybe I just want to be human again. Someone ordinary. Someone allowed to feel joy without apologizing for it. Someone who still waits for good news without bracing for the worst. Who still hopes. Who forgets, and forgives herself, anyway. I still look at the sky. Mostly after dawn, when everything is hushed, and the prayers still hang in the air. He's probably shining somewhere else now. He always belonged  to a different sky than the one I could reach. And yes, some nights I miss him before I even realize I do. And some mornings, I still look for him out of habit. Glance upward as if he'd still be there. But I'm lear...