Almost, But Never Quite
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How do you find closure from something that never even began? How do you grieve in what never existed?
The weight of always being in between is quite suffocating. It's like standing at the edge of a cliff with no way of knowing how far the drop is or what awaits at the bottom. You're left dangling, unable to step forward yet unable to go back.
And In this liminal space, the ache lingers, not because it was too much to bear, but because it was never enough to end. The efforts to mend it may soften the edges, but it can never erase the lingering shadow of what could have been- a bittersweet ache of a love that was almost, but never quite.
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