Some days, I feel like I’m living in a loop, replaying the same moments over and over. Not the happy ones, though. Just the ones that leave you with that dull ache in your chest. Like a scratch on a record that skips back to the same line, again and again.
I still remember the way it felt when things were good—when the laughter came easy, and the future felt like this big, open road. But now it’s like the road’s gone. There’s just this endless stretch of fog, and I’m walking it alone, even though I’m surrounded by people.
Isn’t it funny how silence can feel heavier when it’s between two people who used to know each other so well? We sit there, scrolling through our phones, pretending it’s normal, but the truth is, I don’t know how to reach you anymore. Or maybe I don’t know if I should even try.
I think about the nights we stayed up late, talking about nothing and everything all at once. It felt like those moments would last forever. But they didn’t. And now I don’t even know where to put all these memories I’m carrying. I can’t throw them away—they’re too precious—but keeping them feels like drowning in a sea I can’t escape.
I hate that you’re still here, in the back of my mind, in the songs I listen to, in the places I go. It’s like you haunt everything without even trying. I can’t figure out if that’s beautiful or cruel.
Sometimes, I wish I could start over, wipe the slate clean and pretend none of this ever happened. But that’s not how life works, is it? You don’t get to hit rewind. You just have to keep moving forward, even when every step feels like a betrayal of what used to be.
And the worst part? I don’t even know if you’re thinking about me, too.
