Life is never what you expect. It twists and turns, pulling you away from what you once thought was certain. My mind feels like a storm, scattered with fleeting memories and regrets I can’t quite name. I try not to compare my life to others, but the truth is, somewhere along the way, I strayed from the path I thought I’d be walking.

I’ve never been good at saying hello, and I’ve always struggled with goodbyes. The in-between moments slip away, unnoticed until they’re gone. Birthdays come and go. Weddings are celebrated without me. I live through them in the filtered lens of Instagram stories, a spectator to a life I’m no longer a part of.

Friends from once upon a time are now distant memories. Names that used to light up my phone have faded into silence. I wonder who they’ve become, what their lives look like beyond the curated snapshots I scroll past. The truth is, I don’t know them anymore. And if I’m honest, I don’t think they know me either.

Family gatherings feel the same. Faces I once knew so well now look like strangers wearing masks of familiarity. We sit at the same table, but the conversations feel hollow, like echoes of something that used to mean more. I don’t know if I’ve changed too much, or if they have, or if this is just what growing apart feels like.

The hardest part is the space between us—between who we were and who we’ve become—the unspoken moments, the missed connections, the quiet drift of time. I wonder if I’ll ever find my way back to them or if I’m meant to keep walking this unfamiliar road, making peace with the echoes of a life I thought I knew.

For now, I keep moving forward, trying to hold onto the fragments that remain, even as they slip through my fingers. Maybe one day, I’ll learn how to say hello again.