I don't notice it at first.
It isn't something loud,
or something I decide.
It happens slowly—
in small, unnoticed moments.
I wake up,
and my first thought…
isn't him.
I go through my day
without checking my phone
for a message that never comes.
And sometimes,
I don't even realize
that I haven't thought of him at all.
That realization
comes later—
soft… but heavy.
Like something slipping away
without asking me.
I still remember him.
Nothing is gone.
His voice,
his smile,
the way he once existed in my world—
it all stays.
But it no longer holds me
the same way.
It no longer stops my day.
And that…
feels unfamiliar.
I start laughing
without holding back.
Talking without thinking
of how he would react.
Living…
without waiting.
And somewhere in between all this,
a quiet question rises—
"If I can live like this…
then what was I holding onto all this time?"
I don't have the answer.
Maybe it was love.
Maybe it was habit.
Maybe it was the version of me
that only knew how to exist
with him in it.
But now…
I am still here.
Still breathing.
Still moving.
Still becoming something
I don't fully understand yet.
And for the first time—
that doesn't scare me.
Yeah…
I move through my days
like nothing ever happened.
I do my work,
I smile,
I live as I should.
But he is still inside me.
Not in a way the world can see,
but in the silence I carry.
I am still waiting—
even when I know
he may never come back.
I don't have him.
Maybe I never will.
But somewhere, in my heart,
I stay by his side—
not in reality,
but in memories
that never leave me.
I was shocked
to learn
he already belonged
to someone else.
And yet,
somewhere between the breaking,
I smiled—
because he found love,
because he was happy.
I told myself
that should be enough.
But hearts don't listen
that easily.
It still hurts.
Even if I can't stand beside him
in this life,
a part of him never
truly left me.
Somewhere, somehow…
he still remains—
buried deep within me,
in that place where love ended,
but never truly died.