For a long time, I thought I had lost myself.
When everything fell apart, I believed the version of me that loved you, the one that laughed so easily, the one that believed in forever — was gone too. I kept searching for her in the past, trying to find her in the memories, but she wasn’t there anymore.

And maybe that’s the point.
Maybe we’re not meant to be who we were before the storm. Maybe the breaking, the aching, the losing — all of it changes us in ways we can’t undo.

There are pieces of who I used to be that I still miss.
The innocence. The faith. The simplicity of believing that love was enough to hold the world together. But there are also pieces I’ve gained — strength, resilience, the quiet understanding that I can survive what I once thought would destroy me.

We talk so much about becoming whole again, but maybe wholeness isn’t about putting all the pieces back.
Maybe it’s about learning to love the new shape of who you’ve become.

I am made of fragments — the girl I was, the woman I am, the dreams I lost, the hope I found again. Some of those pieces are cracked, some are sharp, but together they form something real. Something honest.

And maybe that’s what healing truly is: not pretending you’re untouched, but embracing every part of yourself that survived.
Because survival isn’t just about breathing — it’s about building yourself again from the wreckage, piece by piece, heart by heart.

I no longer chase the person I was before I broke.
I honor her, but I don’t try to become her again.
Because she carried me as far as she could.
And now, it’s my turn to carry her — forward.

Always and Forever

💬 Do you ever feel like you’re rebuilding yourself piece by piece? Share your thoughts in the comments — your story might help someone else see beauty in their own brokenness.