It Was Never About Replacing You
I talk to other people now.
Not because I’m looking for someone better—
but because silence gets too loud when it only echoes your name.
I laugh. I reply. I tell stories.
But sometimes, right in the middle of someone else’s sentence,
my mind takes a quiet detour to wonder how you’d have responded instead.
I’m not trying to forget you.
I just can’t stay frozen in a space you’ve abandoned.
And I won’t keep knocking on a door you locked behind you.
It’s not that I believe they’ll be like you.
If anything, I hope they won’t.
But I’m still talking.
Still showing up.
Still letting the world see pieces of me—
even the broken ones.
So no, I’m not moving on in the way people expect.
I’m moving through—
through the mess of what could’ve been,
through the ache of what never became,
through the lesson you left in the space where your presence used to be.
And maybe one day I’ll meet someone
who won’t feel like a distraction from you,
but like a destination of my own choosing.
Until then, I’ll keep walking.
Even if part of me still looks back.