𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔶 - by vixie.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
I ache for you the way evenings ache for their earlier light. For the version that arrived without armor, that trusted rooms would remain standing simply because you stepped inside them. You were easy with belief then—placing it everywhere, like spare change on counters, assuming it would still be there when you returned. Loving you felt uncomplicated and losing you felt like a small, reasonable grief.
Time rearranges the loss into routine. I began mistaking sharpness for clarity, restraint for wisdom. The hands learned new habits— closing before being reached for, weighing every gesture for consequence. I told myself this was maturity, that the narrowing was necessary. Yet some nights I still lean toward where you used to stand, startled by how instinct remembers what the mind has renamed obsolete.
It takes a long while to realize the absence isn’t another person. It is the earlier self who believed the world could be met without suspicion; Who argued with wonder instead of rage and expected repair where I now expect damage. What I mourn is not what left me, but what hardened in its place— how hope was thinned into sarcasm, how care learned to bruise before being bruised.
I speak of you as if you were taken, but you were not stolen. You were worn down, negotiated away, traded for survival. And still, beneath the bitterness that keeps me functional, something waits; not to return whole, but to be remembered without scorn.
⋅˚₊‧ଳ‧₊˚⋅ᝰ.ᐟ— hi so i js learned the word 'elegy'. i like it, it made me think a lot about how the people in our lives maturing and leaving behind the person they once were, can also be considered as a loss. i sometimes mourn them . then i wondered if anyone ever felt the same way towards me and how i've also changed so much the past years. i do think i miss some aspects of my old self. i remember being told i'm a lot more cynical now, which lowk made me sad. a part of me yearns to be softer. idk i might keep editing this — ⋅˚₊‧ଳ‧₊˚⋅ᝰ.ᐟ
