Six months ago today my world shattered — and it was never pieced back together. I have laughed. I have cried. I have lived since then, but I remain broken all the same. Not a day passes when my mother doesn’t cross my mind. Some might call it an exaggeration, especially with so much else going on in my life, who would have the time? but every waking moment, every breath I take, every tiny thing that happens to me, for a split 0.03 seconds I want to tell her. In those milliseconds the thought vanishes, reminding me that I can’t.

I used to be a firm believer in “this too shall pass.” Every heartbreak, every streak of bad luck — six months tops, I’d tell myself. And here I am, six months later, writing and admitting that this one is different. It’s been six months since I felt like I lost my life, and oh, what an ache — what a pain — to keep going. Six months since I’ve hoped each day to be reunited with her. Six months since boys stopped occupying my mind. Six months since every petty problem revealed itself as just that: petty.

It’s been six months since I learned what true heartbreak means.

I used to think phrases like "I see you in everyone I meet" or "I see you in strangers on the street" were ridiculous. Overly romantic. Unreal. I believed that once you got over someone, that was it — you were either done or still hopelessly stuck. I didn’t believe in the in-between.

But after I met you, I realized how wrong I was.

This isn’t meant to be some poetic declaration. There’s no deeper meaning hidden between the lines. It’s just... honest. And maybe that’s why I felt the need to write it down.

This feeling is foreign to me. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t interfere with my life. But I have to admit — sometimes, when I meet someone new, you come to mind. Not because they are you, or even like you in any significant way. Sometimes it’s as small as the curve of their lips, the way they smile. Sometimes — and this is strange to even say — it’s something as mundane as the shape of their fingernails.

Not everyone reminds me of you. But enough do that I’ve noticed a pattern. And if this were some kind of strange, silent competition — you'd be winning.