There wasn’t a sign. No grand realization.
Just a morning like any other — quiet, gray, ordinary.
But something in me shifted.
I didn’t wake up missing you.
I didn’t check my phone.
I just… breathed.

It’s strange how healing happens —
not with fireworks, but with stillness.
One day, you simply stop bleeding.
You look at the world and it doesn’t hurt as much to exist in it anymore.

I used to think moving on meant forgetting.
But now I know — it means forgiving yourself
for staying too long, for trying too hard, for breaking quietly.

It means choosing to believe that what’s coming
might be gentler than what’s gone.

So I got up. I made coffee. I smiled at my reflection.
Not because everything was perfect —
but because for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

You don’t always need a new love to start again.
Sometimes, the new beginning is simply you.

And maybe that’s what courage really is —
not starting over with someone new,
but starting over with yourself.

Always and Forever

💬 What was the moment you realized you were ready to start again? Share it — your story might remind someone that it’s never too late to begin.