The Art Of Rebecca Bones

I don’t want my life to be an entire collection of letting go.
Because that’s what it starts to feel like after a while, doesn’t it?
I let go of people.
I let go of expectations.
I let go of old versions of myself.
I let go of outcomes I really, really wanted.
And everyone calls that “growth.”
But if all I’m doing is releasing things, eventually it stops feeling like healing…
and starts feeling like I’m just slowly emptying my life out.
You’re not supposed to just lose things.
You’re supposed to build something in their place.
Because if you don’t…
All that “growth” just turns into space.
Quiet.
Distance.
Loneliness.
And then I sit there thinking—
“I did everything right… so why does my life feel smaller?”
And maybe the hardest part of all of this…
is you.
Because I did try to let you go.
We stopped talking.
I gave you space.
I told myself it was over, or at least… it should be.
And for a while, I started to believe it.
But the truth is—
just because you stop talking to someone doesn’t mean you stop loving them.
It doesn’t mean they leave your mind.
It doesn’t mean you don’t still feel it when something reminds you of them.
So now it feels even more complicated.
Because I know what it’s like without you.
I know I can survive it.
But surviving it didn’t mean I stopped wanting you.
And that’s the part that messes with me.
Because you still won’t choose me.
And I don’t know what to do with that—
loving someone, losing them, finding my way back to myself…
and still feeling pulled toward something that never fully chose me.
So I’m here—
Not where I was before,
but not fully free either.
I let go once… or at least I tried to.
And somehow I ended up right back in the same place,
just more aware of what it costs me.
Because I don’t want my life to be a series of almosts…
But I also don’t know how to stop loving something
that never really gave me a reason to.