Another day, another piece of writing that somehow finds its way back to you.

My best friend told me I should stop writing about you and start writing for myself. Perhaps he is right. Yet somehow, you remain the reason I want to write at all. Every thought seems to find its way back to you, and every moment becomes another sentence.

Today, I took my first small step towards someone new. And almost immediately, I realised how far I still am from being ready. No one could take your place, and no one could make me forget you, not now, and perhaps not for a long while.

Strangely, there is both pain and beauty in that. Because if I must love someone this deeply, I am glad it is you.

Falling for you was perhaps the most unexpected accident of my life, and somehow, the most fortunate one. I love you as you are, the entirety of you, without needing anything to be different.

There are no promises that our paths will meet again, and I have no right to ask the future for one.

But if I am destined to carry the love for one person for the rest of my life, then I am strangely at peace knowing that person is you. Even if the road leaves me walking it alone.