Sometimes I wonder why I still let the past take up so much space in my mind. Six years ago, I fell for someone who never really treated me the way I deserved. He showed up when it was convenient, but when I truly needed him, he wasn’t there.
What’s frustrating is that, even now, I can’t seem to let go. I still catch myself imagining a life with him, like some part of me refuses to move forward. The dreams don’t help—him coming back, us starting over. They leave me feeling torn because, in reality, I know I’ve moved on. But somehow, he’s still there, like a shadow I can’t shake.
I ask myself if meeting someone new would change things, if that’s the key to finally moving forward. But honestly, I can’t picture myself with anyone else. Maybe this is just how it’s meant to be—me, figuring out my own path, alone. And maybe that’s okay.
