Today was a little strange.
I met an old friend—someone who used to be more than just a friend, or at least someone who once occupied a very particular space in my heart.
We talked a lot. About life, about the past, about things that happened years ago.
And then he brought up something I had almost forgotten.
Apparently, once upon a time, I cried because of him.
Oh God.
I wanted the ground to swallow me.
Not because there was anything particularly horrible about it, but because hearing someone tell a story about the younger version of you can be painfully embarrassing.
Like… seriously?
I did that? I cried over you?
But I was young.
And apparently, I loved differently back then.
Or maybe I didn’t.
Because somehow, on my way home, I started thinking about the person I love now.
He is away at the moment. Before leaving, he told me that the next couple of weeks would be extremely busy and that there might be times when he wouldn’t be able to reply to my messages.
So I haven’t messaged him for the past two days.
I’ve been trying to give him his space and let him enjoy whatever he needs to do.
But tonight, after that conversation about my past, I suddenly remembered all the things I sometimes say to him.
I miss you.
I love you.
Don’t leave me.
And all those slightly embarrassing things people say when they really care about someone.
Then this strange thought came into my head:
Am I still that girl?
The girl who loves someone and becomes completely vulnerable.
The girl who misses someone too much.
The girl who is scared of losing the person she loves.
And for some reason, that thought made me uncomfortable.
Maybe because we like to believe that getting older means becoming completely composed. That eventually we’ll reach an age where love doesn’t make us ridiculous anymore.
But perhaps that isn’t how it works.
Maybe we simply become older versions of the same human being—still capable of missing someone, still capable of getting attached, still capable of being afraid.
The difference is that now, I can see myself doing it.
And maybe that’s why tonight feels strange.
I’m looking at the girl I used to be and the woman I am now at the same time.
One cried over someone years ago.
The other occasionally types I miss you into a chat box and secretly hopes the person on the other side misses her too.
Maybe there isn’t anything wrong with either of them.
Maybe loving someone has always required a little bit of embarrassment.
A little vulnerability.
A little surrender.
Or maybe I’m simply exhausted tonight and thinking far too much about things that don’t need answers.
I honestly don’t know.
Right now, I don’t even know exactly what I’m feeling.
I’m not sad.
I’m not happy.
I’m not heartbroken.
I’m just… somewhere in between.
Thinking about the past.
Thinking about someone far away.
Thinking about myself.
Thinking about how strange it is that after all these years, love can still make me feel like I don’t entirely know what I’m doing.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and laugh at all of this.
For tonight, though, I’ll let the feeling exist without trying to give it a name.
Maybe I’m confused.
Maybe I’m missing someone.
Or maybe I’m just tired.
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