The kettle had just begun to sing when my phone flashed “typing” and then went quiet. The steam fogged my glasses. Metal hissed. Tea leaves opened in the strainer and the room filled with that sharp, green smell. Nothing catastrophic happened, yet the floor shifted. In the space of one breath, a small present silence pulled a rope that raised a whole stage set from the past: a dusty platform, a bright corridor with antiseptic air, a table where a dial tone drilled through the afternoon. Grief Doesn’t Archive Grief doesn’t archive. …
Grieving the Person I Was
I used to believe that heartbreak was all about mourning the loss of someone else—their absence, their silence, the sudden emptiness they leave behind. But as I’ve journeyed through my own healing process, I’ve realized that some of the hardest parts are not about the person who’s no longer there, but about the versions of myself that I’m leaving behind. There’s a unique grief in letting go of who you used to be—the one who dreamed a certain dream, who painted vivid pictures of a future that now feels impossible. The girl who imagined her …