03/02/2026
If people truly knew how much I miss you,
they wouldn’t ask how I’m doing.
They would wonder how I’m still standing,
how I still wake up,
how I still breathe through days that feel heavier than the last.
Missing you isn’t one moment.
It’s every moment that followed the one where everything changed.
It’s in the quiet mornings,
the empty spaces,
the pauses where your name almost slips out of my mouth. 🌫️
Some days I carry the grief gently,
like a photograph folded carefully in my pocket.
Other days it feels like a weight on my chest,
reminding me that love doesn’t disappear just because someone does. 🤍
I smile when I have to.
I laugh when it’s expected.
But there’s a part of me that still waits—
as if you might walk back in,
as if time might feel merciful for just one second. 🕯️
They don’t see the conversations I still have with you.
The way I talk to the sky.
The way memories arrive without warning
and leave me breathless in their wake. 🌙
If people knew how much I miss you,
they’d understand that survival isn’t strength.
It’s simply what love does when it has nowhere else to go.
It stays.
It aches.
It learns how to live alongside the loss. 🖤
I am still breathing,
not because it’s easy,
but because love like this doesn’t end—
it transforms into something quieter,
something deeper,
something that lives in every heartbeat. 🌊
So I carry you with me.
In the silence.
In the sorrow.
In the small moments that still feel too big without you.
Missing you isn’t weakness.
It’s proof that you mattered.
And you always will. 🤍
