Junk of The Heart

But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t meant to go back.

This year taught me how to stand on my own — to fill my own cup, to nourish myself instead of waiting to be chosen, rescued, or understood. I learned that independence isn’t cold; it’s quiet, steady, and deeply freeing. I learned that grief doesn’t always look like tears — sometimes it looks like letting go of who you thought you’d be by now.

I forged new friendships that met me where I was, not where I pretended to be. I also burned bridges that once felt impossible to release, and I’ve made peace with that. Some connections aren’t meant to be repaired — they’re meant to teach you when to walk away. What felt like loss was actually alignment- liberating.

These moments don’t tell the whole story, but they hold pieces of it — the in-betweens, the trying, the healing, the becoming. I’m not the same person I was at the start of this year — and I don’t want to be. I did my best. The new version of me knows better, stands firmer, and loves deeper — starting with herself.

Heres to the year that emptied me.

The 'good mornings', the late-night check-ins, the random texts that made ordinary moments feel full.

And when it stops? It's not just silence. It's shock. Your nervous system starts grieving a rhythm that it once relied on.

You check your phone out of habit, you think of things you want to tell them - then remember, you can't!

That ache in your chest? That's not weakness. That's your system trying to recaliberate without what it thought was permanent.

Nobody really understands that kind of pain. It is physical - like a weight in your chest.

And it lasts longer than you ever thought it would unless you already have someone to lean on.