There comes a day when the memories stop feeling like wounds.
They’re still there — clear as ever — but softer, lighter, almost kind.
You can remember without trembling.
You can think of them and still breathe.

I used to believe healing meant forgetting.
That one morning I’d wake up and your name would mean nothing.
But healing isn’t about erasing — it’s about understanding.
It’s learning to live with what once broke you,
without letting it define who you are.

Sometimes I still see you in a crowd.
Sometimes a song still hits too deep.
But the ache is different now —
it’s not a cry for what was,
it’s gratitude for having felt something real, even if it didn’t last.

You were a chapter — not the whole book.
And that’s okay.
Because if I hadn’t lost you,
I might have never found myself.

The past doesn’t vanish; it transforms.
It becomes the story you tell without pain,
the lesson you share without tears,
the reason you can love again without fear.

And when that happens —
when the past stops hurting —
you’ll finally understand that healing was never about forgetting.
It was about remembering differently.

Always and Forever

💬 Has your past stopped hurting yet? Tell me how you knew — your story might be the sign someone needs tonight.