There was a time when every morning began with hope —
that maybe today, you’d remember me.
Maybe you’d reach out.
Maybe the story wasn’t over yet.

But waiting became a kind of heartbreak too.
The kind that doesn’t explode — it lingers quietly,
in the way you keep checking your phone,
in the way every silence feels like a message that never came.

One day, I realized — I wasn’t waiting for you anymore.
I was waiting for peace.
And that peace wasn’t something you could give me.

So I stopped.
I stopped rereading old messages.
I stopped replaying what-ifs.
I stopped trying to make sense of endings that were never meant to be rewritten.

Because love shouldn’t be a pause in your life.
It should be a part of it.
And when someone walks away,
you owe it to yourself to keep walking — even if your steps are shaky at first.

Now, my mornings don’t start with hope.
They start with gratitude.
For what was.
For what ended.
For what’s still waiting for me somewhere down the road.

I’m not waiting anymore.
And somehow, that’s what freedom feels like.

Always and Forever

💬 What did you stop waiting for — and how did it change you? Share it. Someone out there is still learning how to let go.