The Fast Replacements | The Pain of the Fast Move-On

They call it moving on.

Quick, clean.

Like changing jackets when the weather shifts.

Like none of it mattered.

And for a time,

I thought maybe it was me.

Not enough this,

Too much that.

Wrong shape, wrong need,

Too loud, too soft, too human.

I spiraled.

Shame sinking its teeth into my softest parts,

Comparison sharpening itself in secret.

Jealousy bloomed where I thought I’d healed.

And logic whispered:

It was never about you.

But logic is no match for heartbreak.

Heartbreak doesn’t care

That he lied to me from the very beginning.

It doesn’t soothe.

It doesn’t reason.

It just bleeds.

I argued with mirrors.

I dissected my reflection.

I traced timelines like crime scenes.

I hunted for the why

Even as I knew there would never be one

That honored the truth of me.

What did she have that I didn’t?

What did he see when he looked at me?

What did I miss?

How did I become so disposable?

I carried these questions like stones in my mouth.

Heavy.

Bitter.

Unswallowed.

And the pain?

It didn’t care how much he had already hurt me.

It didn’t care what I knew or how strong I tried to be.

It just wanted to burn through me,

Until there was nothing left to scorch.

Some days I made peace with the ache.

Other days I let it drag me under.

Grief is not linear.

Neither is rage.

Neither is self-forgiveness.

But time kept moving,

Even when I couldn’t.

And slowly—without applause—

I began to set the stones down.

One by one.

Not because I stopped hurting,

But because I grew tired of the weight.

Shame did not slip off my shoulders.

I pried it loose.

Fingernail by fingernail.

Gripping it in the dark,

Forcing it to release what it thought it owned.

I sat in the misery

As I starved comparison

And let jealousy burn out of me.

Even when the smoke choked me.

And somewhere in the chaos,

I began to remember:

My beauty.

My charm.

My dreams.

My light.

My smarts.

My wildfire heart.

The parts of me no one could replace.

Not quickly.

Not ever.

And as I wandered the void of in-between,

I heard myself breathing.

And I whispered:

I am enough.

I am worthy.

And I will always choose me.