Sometimes we move on from something
without really deciding to.
There isn’t a clear point where it ends.
No moment where we tell ourselves we’re done.
It just becomes less present.
We return to it a little less often.
Think about it a bit less.
Spend less time with it than we used to.
At first, it’s barely noticeable.
Nothing feels different in a clear way.
But over time, the distance grows.
And eventually, it’s no longer part of our routine.
Not because we chose to let it go,
but because we gradually stopped returning to it.
And when we notice it later,
it can feel a little unexpected.
Not that it ended—
just that it’s no longer there in the same way.