I was in love once deeply, blindly, completely. Now I'm not. What's left isn't love anymore, just the quiet guilt of ever feeling it so purely. I don't wear it with pride; it's a scar I don't show, but a lesson I'll never forget. I fell for you without thinking, without guarding my heart, believing love was enough to keep us whole. But somewhere in that fall, I lost parts of myself the simple peace, the innocent joy, the version of me that still believed love could never hurt. Now I carry that memory not as something beautiful, but as something that taught me that sometimes love isn't the healing, it's the wound that teaches you how to heal. And maybe that's what growing up really is learning that not every love is meant to stay, but every heartbreak is meant to change you.