someone new
There’s something to be said about the moment you realize you’ve fallen out of love with someone. You wait for that familiar twist in your gut, or that rush of feverish lust come face to face. But it doesn’t come. The thought of them with someone else may bother you, but not like it used to. You don’t want to be theirs now, but you miss the thought of being their only. And even after awhile, a part of you misses the feelings that came when you caught a glimpse of that person. You almost will yourself to feel it again, but you realize fast that yes, you still love them, but you’ll never be in love with them again. And there’s that freeing kind of sadness that comes with that, almost like finding an old picture at the bottom of a dusty box, that silently thanks them for giving you something they had no idea they could give.
