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CLOSURE
<p>I just realized...</p><p>Thinking about you doesn't hurt anymore</p><p>Yesterday, I was doing the dishes and then it happened. No warning, no trigger I could point to, just her, suddenly, and the last thing they said to me before deciding silence was easier than an ending.</p><p>I waited for the usual whiplash. The bracing. </p><p>The thing where a memory shows up uninvited and you spend the next ten minutes negotiating with your own chest. It didn't come. I kept washing the same plate longer than it needed, just to see if the feeling would catch up to me late. It didn't.</p><p><br/></p><p>I almost reached for my phone out of habit</p><p>the old reflex,<em> check in, smooth it over, </em><em style="background-color: transparent;">make sure she's okay even though she stopped being my responsibility to check on a long time ago</em>. </p><p>I caught myself, </p><p>why does it matter?</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Nothing. I genuinely couldn't answer.</p><p>I sat with that for a while, because I expected guilt to show up where the answer should've been. It didn't. No heaviness, no familiar ache standing in for the explanation I couldn't give. Just a strange, quiet absence of the alarm I used to live inside.</p><p>Do I still care, in the broad sense people mean when they ask if you're over someone? Yes. </p><p>Will I feel something the next time her face surfaces uninvited? Probably not, and that used to scare me more than the missing her ever did.</p><p>They're<span style="background-color: transparent;"> no longer my emotional responsibility. Neither are a few other people I used to carry that way without noticing I was doing it. </span>I didn't get a conversation that explained anything. Nobody apologized, nothing got resolved out loud. I just stopped needing it to.</p><p>What stuns me more than the peace itself is how undramatic it was. No final letting-go moment, no big cry that emptied something out of me. Just a Tuesday, dishes in the sink, and the quiet discovery that I'd already let go a while ago without telling myself.</p><p>I have no more mental capacity for carrying people I've already lost. </p><p>That's not coldness. It might be the first time in a long time that something in me finally agreed to stop working overtime.</p>
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