i know things have changed, and i have to accept that it will never be the same again. that realization doesn't come easily—it carries a quiet kind of ache, the kind that lingers in memories and in the spaces where something once felt familiar and whole. i find myself holding onto fragments of what we had, not because i expect them to return, but because they mattered, and they always will. accepting change doesn't mean forgetting; it just means learning how to carry those moments differently. even with that acceptance, there's still a part of me that wishes things could have turned out another way. but life moves forward, whether we're ready or not, and i'm trying to find peace in that. i'll take what we shared as something meaningful, something that shaped me, even if it no longer fits into my present. and maybe, in time, i'll look back not with sadness, but with quiet gratitude for what once was.