I do not regret the people I once loved.
Not the seasons that bloomed,
nor the winters that followed.
Not the mistakes I made knowingly,
nor those I made before I understood myself.
Each relationship left something behind
a lesson,
a wound,
a mirror.
And though I cannot change what was,
I can honour it
by becoming better than I was yesterday.
I often hear people speak of finding the right person,
as if love were a search party
for someone who perfectly fits our longing.
Yet rarely do we ask ourselves:
Am I becoming the person
I hope to meet?
Not perfect.
Not without scars.
Not without history.
But honest.
Accountable.
Kind.
A person willing to grow,
willing to listen,
willing to love without losing themselves.
Today, I carry no regret.
Only gratitude for the roads that shaped me,
for the mistakes that humbled me,
and for the people who taught me
what love is
and what it is not.
If love finds me again,
it will meet a different woman than before.
Not because life has been easy,
but because I chose to learn from it.
And perhaps that is the quiet work of love:
Not simply finding the right person,
but becoming one.