So, a friend of mine recently went through a break up. And she said to me, “I can’t think of life beyond him, I CANNOT. What’s the use of going through all of this when the one I want isn’t with me?”
“I can’t move on” is literally the most common thing I hear.
But the irony is, the only person who can make the decision of moving on is YOU. Only you.
My dad, when he found out I used to keep a diary, asked me, “Why do you want to remember what’s happened? Is it healthy, remembering all the negativity & the angst?” That was the first time I thought about letting things go.
Why do people find it’s hard to move on? More often than not, they miss the memories of their relationship, and not the person they shared those memories with. I’m sure they were lovely memories indeed, but they’re gone. And somewhere inside, you have a tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things might return to the way they were. You might return to the way you were. The person you were in love with might return.
But they won’t. You’ll only move on if you let go of the past, and embrace the future instead.
I know it hurts. I know it feels as if the world is falling down around you. But that’s the time you realize that it’s just a phase – like every bad phase in your life, it too shall pass.
You’ll wake up one day, and you’ll realize the thought of him doesn’t make you cry after all.
You’ll realize the way her eyes used to shine don’t haunt you anymore.
You’ll realize the memories are just muted versions of the crystal clear dreams they used to be.
I’m not saying you’ll forget, hell no. They’ll always be a part of you. But instead of dwelling upon them like you’re obsessed, you’ll reflect upon them as a part of your life.
Cherish them for what they were. But don’t let your wish to keep them with you forever spoil your present.
You might never find the same kind of love you experienced, but you’ll find something even better. Time heals everything
Life’s too short to keep moaning. So let go of your past. Trust me, the future is even lovelier.
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