when you stop loving someone
you were walking in paris on a winter’s day, when you noticed the most desirable woman in the world - a short brunette with a yellow beret. that’s when you realized something had changed.
those few weeks in europe, you’d been pining over an ex. even at the start of the paris leg, you had stopped by a 7‑11 to buy a calling card to ring her, just to hear her voice - and remind her you still existed.
it must’ve only been a day or two later when you saw the brunette.
you knew then - with subtle clarity and a stirring in your loins - that you’d gotten over your ex. the girl in the yellow beret had done that in one whole heartbeat and a held breath.
for the rest of the trip, you didn’t check in.
you had no feelings for your ex. you didn’t care if she wrote, didn’t care about the contents of those emails - you didn’t even care what she thought of you. it’s like she stopped existing, at least in your heart.
the thing is, you didn’t wish her ill‑will - or anything else - but not feeling anything for her didn’t mean you’d stopped feeling.
that absence itself hurt you. not in the way heartache hurts, or any other kind of trauma. more of a dull loss.
you embraced the hurt. it reminded you that you’re still human, capable of feeling deep loss and regret - even if you didn’t care about someone you used to love.