Longing is the echo of a love that still lives.
It’s the quiet reach of your hands into empty spaces.
It’s the imagined conversations, the phantom footsteps,
the way your body still expects them to walk through the door.

There is nothing wrong with you for wanting them back.
Longing doesn’t mean you’re stuck.
It means you loved so much, your soul still remembers.

This is a place to honour that ache; not fix it.
Let it breathe here.

Journal Prompt

If you want to write, here’s a gentle place to begin

What do I long for the most right now?
Is it their voice, their hug, their scent, their laugh?
What would I say if I believed they could hear me?

Or: What part of me is still trying to find them?

Gentle Ritual

If writing feels too much, try something with your hands

The Holding Space Practice (3–5 minutes)

1. Sit quietly with something that reminds you of them; an object, a photo, a memory.

2. Place it in your hands or on your heart.

3. Close your eyes and say:

“I still want you here. I still wish things were different.
And I still love you. Always.”

You don’t need to let go.
You just need somewhere to hold this.

Optional: Try This

Or just walk with me for a minute. No pressure, just presence

The Place They Were Walk

Go to a place they used to be, even in your imagination.
Sit, stand, or walk slowly. Picture them.
Not to “get closure.”
Just to be with the ache, without needing it to change.

Please Remember

There’s nothing wrong with longing.
It is not a weakness.
It’s what love becomes when it has nowhere else to go.

Let it stay, if it needs to.
You’re not broken for wanting more time.