I wonder if you can hear me still
I haven’t spent time trying to talk to you.
Do you still look over me
Do you see what I’ve done?
I’ve been letting myself live again
Diving into the day
Letting myself feel things
Putting myself out there
Sticking to what I said I’d do.
Though it came with a price
Now I can’t stop thinking ahead
I can’t just stop in the moment
To see where you are
How you are.
The connection I had to you has weakened
All while my lust for life heightened.
Part of me feels guilty for forgetting you
I try not to forget, but I do sometimes.
Just want you to know that I’m doing good.
It’s strange how life pulls us in different directions, isn’t it? One moment, we’re deeply connected to something beyond ourselves, something that grounds us, gives us perspective. The next, we’re swept up in the currents of daily life, chasing after goals, experiencing new things, and in the process, drifting away from those connections that once felt so essential.
I’ve been living more fully, embracing the present in ways I hadn’t before. I’ve been diving headfirst into the day, letting myself feel and experience life as it comes. There’s a thrill in it, a sense of aliveness that I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. But with that thrill comes a certain cost—a distance that grows between me and the parts of myself that I used to hold so close.
I used to be able to stop, to pause and feel that connection, to sense your presence in the quiet moments. But now, my mind races ahead, always thinking about the next thing, the next experience, the next challenge. It’s as if the very act of living has pulled me away from the stillness where I used to find you. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that I’ve let the busyness of life take over, and in doing so, I’ve let our connection slip.
There’s a part of me that feels guilty for this, for letting life’s distractions come between us. I try not to forget you, but sometimes I do. It’s not intentional; it’s just that in the rush of everything, I lose sight of that deeper part of myself, the part that was always tethered to you. And yet, I hope you can understand. I hope you can see that I’m not abandoning you, but rather finding my way through the world, learning to live again, even if it means sometimes losing touch with what I once held so dear.
But despite the distance, I want you to know that I’m doing good. I’m finding joy in the everyday moments, in the little things that make life worth living. I’m sticking to my word, doing what I said I’d do, and in that, I find a new kind of connection—a connection to the life I’m building, to the person I’m becoming.
Still, I don’t want to lose you completely. I want to find a way to balance this lust for life with the connection I had to you. Maybe it’s possible to have both, to live fully without forgetting the parts of myself that need quiet, that need to pause and reflect. I hope that wherever you are, you’re watching over me, seeing the growth, the struggles, the joys. And I hope that in the midst of it all, you can see that I’m trying, that I’m living, and that I’m still holding on to the memory of you, even as I move forward.
Life has a way of pulling us in different directions, but I’m learning that it doesn’t have to pull us apart. I’m learning that I can live fully and still hold on to the things that matter, the things that ground me. And though I may forget sometimes, I always come back, because I know that you’re a part of me that I can’t afford to lose.
