I come across old pictures of me, and I look at the dates. All I can think of is, this was the phase right before you walked into my life. This was before I knew of your existence. And this was before I started checking my phone every few minutes, impatiently waiting for a response I knew I wasn’t getting.

I come across my old writing pieces, and the time stamps are all that catch my eyes. I remember I wanted to document how it felt when we first met. I remember I never thought that’s how it would eventually end. I spot so many innocent versions of me between the lines; none of whom had any idea this was meant to turn me into someone they’d hardly recognize.

And I go back to the voicenotes I still haven’t deleted. I hear all the excitement I couldn’t contain, in the way my heart was always so loudly beating. For everything seemed to finally make some sense. Little did I know, things were only falling into place just so I’d briefly catch my breath, right before you turned it all into another literal mess.

There‘s no way for me to explain this though, but when I put all this aside and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror instead, I can still spot so many pieces of you that I no longer even detest. You managed to split my life into one huge before-and-after, yet the pain it brought along has only really helped me grow wiser. I still come across my old pictures and remember you, yet I don’t feel like looking away. For all I truly am right now is grateful.