You can miss someone and still move on.

 You can miss someone and still move on.

I still think about things sometimes.

Not all the time. Not like before.

But they come—quietly. In flashes.

Like how someone made me feel seen for a moment, then slowly made me feel small.

Like how I held on, even when it hurt.

And how I let go… Without making a scene. Just quietly walked away.

And the weirdest part?

I still miss some of it.

Not the person. Not the pain.

But the version of me who loved without holding back.

The hope. The silly comfort. The familiar mess.

You can miss someone and still know they were not good for you.

You can miss them and not want them back.

You can miss what you thought it would be—not what it really was.

That is the thing no one tells you:

Moving on does not mean you forget.

It does not mean it stops hurting all immediately.

It just means… You do not wait anymore.

You do not reach out. You do not shrink yourself to fit into someone’s almost.

You carry it.

You breathe through it.

And then you keep walking.

Some days, something will remind you.

And for a second, it will feel heavy again.

But now, you know how to hold that weight without letting it break you.

That is healing.

That is moving on.

Not perfect. Not clean.

But real.

You can miss someone and still move on.

And if you are doing that—quietly, painfully, bravely—

I see you.

You are not weak. You are just human.

And you are doing just fine.