That, too, is love — the kind that doesn’t need permission to end, but still deserves to be honored.

This isn’t a message to bring you back. It’s not a plea.
It’s just the truth.

You were important.
You’re still missed, in quiet, passing ways.
But I’m learning to carry the memories without losing myself in them.

And maybe that’s what hurts most… that you left without a word, as if none of it meant anything.
But I refuse to let your silence erase what was real for me.

Losing that… losing you… felt like losing a mirror.

I shared so much of myself with you.
And I cherished your honesty, even when it stung.
Your opinions, your advice, your mind.
It all mattered to me.

You mattered to me.

Just between us — I remember it all too well.

I carry the memories, the residue of someone who once felt stitched into the fabric of my daily life.
You were part of my emotional landscape, part of how I saw the world, how I understood myself.

Did I say something wrong?
Were you going through something and didn’t know how to say it?
Did I matter at all?
Or was I just convenient… until I wasn’t?

Because I never got closure. No explanation. No goodbye. No conflict. Just silence.
And it’s the kind of silence that messes with your mind, the kind that leaves you carrying all the weight, trying to make sense of something you didn’t break. Or maybe I did.

You’re everywhere, and nowhere.
And that’s the hardest part.