I Knew It, I Know You

Once upon a time, all this was probably love. Or something very similar - with night-time conversations, saving each other from boredom and the illusion of eternal understanding. And then the process of growing up began: with clarity, where pain is no longer a tragedy, but simply a consequence of the natural selection of feelings.

Now there is no regret, only pure acceptance. When you can admit that yes, it was good, but it's no longer necessary. When sadness comes not from loss, but from recognition - of your former self, naive, ready to save another from their own darkness.

It sounds like the inner monologue of someone who has finally stopped justifying their own survival. And even if somewhere deep down a memory still tugs at you, there is still only one thing left: a calm, mature indifference.