There’s something beautiful about moving on. I can’t seem to put my finger on it, but the feeling is true bliss.
There’s a point in getting over someone you truly cared about, a point you hit where you wake up one morning and there’s no more anger, no sadness, no void. There’s nothing. There’s nothing but hope for the day ahead: a day not full of tears or worries, a day not full of waiting on the text that is never going to come, no. This day is full of optimism and excitement about what is coming your way next. A joy to thrive in your own life.
I’m nowhere near that cliché happy person yet, not even close. I’m at this pivotal point in my life where yes, so many things are so shitty and not put together, but this one part of my life is not haunting me anymore. I loved a boy who couldn’t love me in the way I needed for the longest time. I still love him, I believe a part of me always will. But by no means am I in love with that person anymore, and hear me when I say it feels fucking amazing.
I’m not stuck on the “what ifs.” I don’t need a text from him to get me through the day. I don’t need a snapchat of what he’s doing. Not a call. Nothing.
I don’t need or want anything from him. All I need is me. My family. My friends. My life. That’s all I want.
The beauty in moving on is that you learn to focus on yourself again. You re-learn who you are and what makes you thrive, what makes you happy. I’m discovering myself again and not to forget him, no — to really find out what makes me, me.
I’m not kissing other boys to forget him anymore, I’m kissing them because I want to. Because I’m happy enough to put myself out there and try something new. To flourish as the outgoing woman I am instead of locking her up and wishing he’d come back to let her out.
I can’t put my finger on the moment when this happened, when I stopped letting someone who didn’t value my love in the way I needed invade my feelings and thoughts. It was gradual, the fading. It hurt for so long, as I imagine it does for everyone, but I have finally begun waking up excited for my days, letting go of every “what if” I had been holding on to. I let reality sink in and when I was done sulking in the pain I woke up wanting something new. Whatever it may be, I woke wishing for something I couldn’t have when I was caught up in the toxicity of my need for his love. I’m curious, excited for new adventures, truly lusting after life — and it’s amazing.