Everyone Thinks I’m Over Him.

Everyone Thinks I’m Over Him

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‎Everyone thinks I’m over him because I don’t talk about him anymore.

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‎I don’t cry in public. I don’t post sad quotes at midnight. I don’t mention his name like it still belongs in my mouth. When people say, “You’ve moved on,” I smile and let the sentence end there.

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‎What they don’t know is that healing can be silent. It doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it slips in quietly and rearranges your heart without asking permission.

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‎I still think of him when certain songs play unexpectedly. I still pause when I pass places we used to go, as if memory has its own gravity. Sometimes, I imagine what I would say if he stood in front of me again—not to reopen anything, but to understand how far I’ve come.

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‎I don’t chase closure anymore. I don’t need answers that arrive too late. I’ve learned that some endings don’t come with explanations, only acceptance.

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‎Being over someone doesn’t always look like forgetting. Sometimes it looks like remembering without breaking. Like holding the past gently instead of letting it bruise you.

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‎I loved him deeply. I lost him quietly. And I survived without announcing it.

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‎If that looks like moving on to you, then maybe you’re right.

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