Missing You Doesn’t Mean I’m Coming Back

Dear Kind heart,

Let’s clear something up gently—and with a smile.

Missing someone is not a summons.
It’s not a contract.
And it certainly isn’t an invitation to reopen a chapter that already said what it needed to say.

I’ve learned this with clarity now—because yes, I finally put my glasses on.
Actual ones. Metaphorical ones. Spiritual ones.
And once you see clearly, you stop pretending blur was romance.

I can miss you and still know better.

I can feel tenderness without confusing it for access.
I can honor memory without resurrecting it.
I can smile at what once was and still refuse to water soil that has already given its yield.

The past had its season. It grew what it could grow.
But old crops do not thrive in new soil—and I am standing in fresh grass now.
The kind that old expectations haven’t trampled.
The kind that doesn’t recognize old patterns as destiny.

This new season smells different.
It has better boundaries.
It asks fewer questions and gives more precise answers.
It doesn’t confuse chaos for chemistry or history for compatibility.

And yes—there’s a little sass in this clarity.
Because once you’ve outgrown something, going back would feel like trying to squeeze into shoes you already donated.
Fond memories? Sure.
Re-entry? Absolutely not.

Missing you is human.
Reestablishing communication would be a choice—and not one I’m making.

Nostalgia is not a GPS.
Emotion is not instruction.
And growth, real growth, comes with discernment… and occasionally, a sense of humor.

So here I am—with vision corrected, posture upright, heart intact—
choosing new pastures, not old ones.
Choosing presence over replay.
Choosing what’s growing now, not what already had its turn.

If clarity feels quiet, that’s because it doesn’t need to convince anyone.
It just knows.

With love, courage, and excellent eyesight,
Sherley Delia