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Traditions I Let Go
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Not every heartbreak is a breakup. Some are just quiet losses. The losses of potential, of patterns of old selves. This piece mourned the ones who almost happened, who felt like green flags that didn't grow into promise... and it is for the version of me who won't settle for almost anymore. This one came from recent disappointment. It's not angry. It's real. About the ache of being almost met... and the softness I'm learning to stay with instead of closing.
Not every heartbreak is a breakup. Some are just quiet losses. The losses of potential, of patterns of old selves. This piece mourned the ones who almost happened, who felt like green flags that didn't grow into promise... and it is for the version of me who won't settle for almost anymore. This one came from recent disappointment. It's not angry. It's real. About the ache of being almost met... and the softness I'm learning to stay with instead of closing.
The Ache of Almost
I wondered how I could give up hope. Give it away like one would a flower. Though it wouldn’t be a gift. It would be an escape. An escape from the almost. The maybes. The moments my heart beat faster and opened wider, believing—for just a breath—that maybe this one would meet me where I am. No one told me how much that would hurt. No one warned me about the mourning that follows, the grief…
The Ache of Almost
I wondered how I could give up hope. Give it away like one would a flower. Though it wouldn’t be a gift. It would be an escape. An escape from the almost. The maybes. The moments my heart beat faster and opened wider, believing—for just a breath—that maybe this one would meet me where I am. No one told me how much that would hurt. No one warned me about the mourning that follows, the grief…
The moral case for accepting your life the way it is.