Nobody teaches you that healing isn’t about forgetting it’s about learning how to live with the echo of someone’s absence without letting it destroy you every time.

What breaks me is knowing that someone out there is living their life like I never existed, while I’m here carrying a version of them in everything I do.

It’s wild how you can laugh with your friends, post selfies, act fine, and then the moment you’re alone, it feels like the weight of the entire world falls back on your chest again.

The worst part about growing up isn’t just losing people, it’s losing versions of yourself that only existed when those people were around. You don’t just miss them you miss the you that lived when they loved you.

I wish someone had told me that sometimes love doesn’t end with hate, it just fades quietly, and somehow that silence hurts more than any goodbye.

The hardest part of moving on isn’t letting go of the person it’s letting go of the version of yourself that only existed with them.

Sometimes it feels like I’m living on autopilot smiling, working, laughing while deep down I’m just waiting for something I can’t even name.

What nobody prepares you for is the way memories sneak up on you one song, one smell, one random moment and suddenly you’re drowning in everything you thought you let go.

Nobody tells you that growing up means watching people you love turn into strangers, and the worst part is, you can’t even blame them because you’ve changed too.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m really healing, or if I just got better at hiding the pain and calling it progress.

Sometimes I disappear not because I don’t care, but because existing feels too heavy and I don’t know how to explain that to anyone.

It’s scary how fast people can go from being your everything to just another stranger with memories attached.

The cruel thing about life is that nobody teaches you how to let go you just wake up one day and realize you’re forced to.

Healing is weird you wake up some days feeling brand new, and other days like you’ve been carrying the same pain forever. And somehow, both are true.

Growing up feels less like chasing dreams and more like learning how to survive when nothing turns out the way you imagined.

Nobody talks about how exhausting it is to always be the strong one smiling, giving advice, holding everyone together while deep down, you’re falling apart in silence.

I hate how healing feels like building a house on shaky ground every time I think I’ve found stability, one small thing can still make it all collapse.

Sometimes I look at old pictures of myself and realize I’m not just missing the people in them, but also the version of me who still believed in forever.

It’s strange how silence can feel heavier than words, how someone’s absence can echo louder than their presence ever did.

The scariest part about life is how it never pauses you can be broken, confused, or lost, but the world keeps moving, and somehow you’re expected to keep moving with it.