It’s weird how everything just fades. At first, it feels like you’re holding onto something that means everything, but then one day you realize you’re not holding anything at all. You thought that moment—that one thing—would be the last time you’d ever have to feel so damn alive, so sure. But now, it feels like a lifetime ago.
I’m stuck here, wondering how everything slipped through my fingers so quietly. No explosions, no big goodbyes. Just this slow, creeping fade that left me trying to remember what it was like when it still made sense. When you still made sense.
We said a lot of things back then, didn’t we? All those promises, all the plans we swore would happen. But in the end, it’s like none of it even mattered. And here I am, stuck in this version of reality where nothing feels real, not even the moments I thought I would carry with me forever.
I catch myself thinking about it—the last time it all made sense. The last time I wasn’t second-guessing everything, wondering if I was wrong for holding on so tight. But now, it’s like I’m trying to hold onto a ghost, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to find a way to make it real again.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe I’m just trying to figure out if I’ll ever feel that weightlessness again—the freedom of knowing something mattered, knowing I mattered. Or maybe I just want to remember what it was like before all the walls went up, before I started doubting everything we had.
It’s funny, though. How the last something that meant anything can also be the thing that leaves you the most empty.
