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*“You Left Me Halfway Healed”* You left me halfway healed— not broken enough to bleed openly, not whole enough to stop aching. I learned how to smile again, but not how to mean it. I learned how to wake up without you, but not how to sleep without replaying your voice like a song stuck between stations. You taught me how to survive the worst of it, then disappeared before showing me how to live without the damage. I stitched myself together with shaky hands, using memories as thread and denial as glue. Some days I look fine from a distance— functional, calm, even happy if you don’t look too closely. But up close, there are seams that never sealed, places where your absence still presses like a bruise that never learned it was safe to fade. You left after teaching me how to hope again. That’s the cruelest part. You reopened rooms in me I had locked for years, let the light in, rearranged the furniture, made it feel like home— and then walked out, leaving the door swinging, letting the cold rush back in. I don’t miss you the way I used to. I miss the version of me that believed in us, the one who trusted your “almosts” and “maybes,” the one who thought love was something that stayed once it arrived. You didn’t destroy me— you just left me unfinished. Now I exist in the in-between. Too strong to fall apart completely, too wounded to fully open up again. I flinch at kindness, question consistency, brace myself even when nothing is wrong. You taught my heart to be alert, to expect loss dressed as love. And still— despite everything— I carry what you gave me. The growth. The awareness. The proof that I can feel deeply, even if it costs me. Maybe being halfway healed means I’m already halfway whole. But some nights, when the world is quiet and I’m alone with my thoughts, I wish you had stayed just a little longer— long enough to finish what you started, long enough to leave me healed instead of teaching me how to heal myself while missing you.