Some people feel permanent until they’re not. One day, they’re sitting across from you, laughing at something stupid. And the next? They’re just… gone. Not in some grand, tragic way—just a slow fade, like a song that ends without you realizing it.
Relationships don’t always fit neatly into categories. There’s no checklist for what to call the people who used to know your coffee order by heart but wouldn’t recognize the person you’ve become. Not friends, not enemies—just a history that still lingers in the spaces between.
People say, “If it was meant to be, it would’ve been.” But that’s not how life works. Some connections are meant to exist only for a while. They come, they shape you, and then they leave—taking parts of you with them, leaving parts of themselves behind.
There’s no need to hold on or push away. Some stories don’t need an ending; they just stop being written. And that’s okay.
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