‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌sullen ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

I don't miss you anymore. I miss the person I was before losing you, every night feels like a room with no windows. I keep talking to memories that never answer, replaying conversations that ended too soon, and holding on to moments that no longer exist. Sometimes I wonder if you ever think about those days the way I do, or if they disappeared as easily as I did from your life, the worst part isn't that you left. The worst part is that a part of me left with you and never found its way back. I smile when I have to, I laugh when everyone else does, but none of it feels like me anymore. It's just a version of myself trying to survive another day, people say time heals. Maybe they're right. Or maybe time just teaches you how to carry a wound without letting anyone notice you're still bleeding. The pain gets quieter, but it never truly leaves. It simply becomes another voice inside your head, I survived losing you, but some nights, when the world finally goes quiet, I realize I never learned how to live after it. Maybe that's the cruelest part of love not that it ends, but that it leaves behind a version of you that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to find again.

I don't miss you anymore. I miss the person I was before losing you, every night feels like a room with no windows. I keep talking to memories that never answer, replaying conversations that ended too soon, and holding on to moments that no longer exist. Sometimes I wonder if you ever think about those days the way I do, or if they disappeared as easily as I did from your life, the worst part isn't that you left. The worst part is that a part of me left with you and never found its way back. I smile when I have to, I laugh when everyone else does, but none of it feels like me anymore. It's just a version of myself trying to survive another day, people say time heals. Maybe they're right. Or maybe time just teaches you how to carry a wound without letting anyone notice you're still bleeding. The pain gets quieter, but it never truly leaves. It simply becomes another voice inside your head, I survived losing you, but some nights, when the world finally goes quiet, I realize I never learned how to live after it. Maybe that's the cruelest part of love not that it ends, but that it leaves behind a version of you that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to find again.

I don't miss you anymore. I miss the person I was before losing you, every night feels like a room with no windows. I keep talking to memories that never answer, replaying conversations that ended too soon, and holding on to moments that no longer exist. Sometimes I wonder if you ever think about those days the way I do, or if they disappeared as easily as I did from your life, the worst part isn't that you left. The worst part is that a part of me left with you and never found its way back. I smile when I have to, I laugh when everyone else does, but none of it feels like me anymore. It's just a version of myself trying to survive another day, people say time heals. Maybe they're right. Or maybe time just teaches you how to carry a wound without letting anyone notice you're still bleeding. The pain gets quieter, but it never truly leaves. It simply becomes another voice inside your head, I survived losing you, but some nights, when the world finally goes quiet, I realize I never learned how to live after it. Maybe that's the cruelest part of love not that it ends, but that it leaves behind a version of you that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to find again.