“Whenever grief creeps up on me, I try to find some solace in knowing that a part of the people we loved will always remain with us. And even when my heart breaks a little, I try to hear an echo of your voice in someone else’s story, try to hold on to the things you left behind. Fragments, scattered across our lives and memories like footprints even the tide can never fully wash away. I’m not talking about obvious things like photos and the clothes we can’t bring ourselves to throw away. This is different. When you left, you became one with this world. I‘ll find parts of you in a beautiful sunset. In the first drop of rain that hits the pavement on a summer day. In the first breath of fresh air after leaving a crowded room. I can find them in so many aspects of life that I know I will never be alone, and whenever I reach out to you, you’ll be there. And maybe this won’t make it hurt less. It will certainly not bring you back. But at least it will allow me to find peace someday, knowing that wherever you are right now, you are never truly far.”

“I wonder when exactly it happened. When the cracks in the foundation turned into something we could no longer bridge with words or actions. When we started doing the bare minimum for each other and felt like it was enough. It was kind of validating, wasn’t it? Liberating, in a way. The occasional checking in, the questions that were asked without any real intentions behind them. The guilt that was lifted off our shoulders every time we decided to swallow our pride. How are you? Fine. What have you been up to? Not much, you? How’s work? Okay. We didn’t ask because we cared, not for the past months. We were following routines, a play, a dance we knew every step to. Both of us ignoring the truth we’d understood a while ago: we’re not what we used to be and we will never be that to each other again. And at some point, we just stopped asking altogether. The more I think about it, the more I figure out that the breaking was no fixed point in time, but a process. There was no argument. No falling out - only the slow and painful realisation that I‘d been wrapping my fingers around something that was long gone. A shadow. A memory. A ghost. I know what I would answer if you reached out to me again. How are you? Kind of sad. What have you been up to? Missing you and everything we used to be - what can we do to find our way back to each other? But you don’t ask. And I don’t ask, either.”

“my mom always told me sweetheart you can’t ever expect other people to love you as deeply as you love them. i should have listened to her. i am not saying you don’t love me but maybe you don’t love me as much as i love you. its no competition. love isn’t a competition. but i took your word for when you said you loved me. i took it by heart. i just didn’t know you didn’t love me enough to save me before you saved yourself. you just didn’t love me enough to save me from myself. you didn’t love me as much as I loved you but then again love is not a competition. if that were the case why’d you say i love you more every night before sleeping when you didn’t.”