I wrote about ephemeral

Ephemeral, It's a beautiful word. And a cruel one.

Everything that ever felt infinite was already halfway to ending.

The laugh that made your ribs hurt, the sunlight tangled in someone's hair, the kind of silence that feels safe. You never realize it's the last time until it's already over. There's no warning, no soft goodbye. Just something beautiful passing through you, never meant to stay, like breath in the cold, or the ghost of someone's scent on your hoodie.

Ephemeral things always feel the most like love. Maybe because they never stay long enough to disappoint you. Or maybe because we pour all our hope into them, knowing we'll lose them anyway. The song that hurts more the older you get. The text you never replied to but read a hundred times. The way someone used to smile when they said your name.

We worship what disappears. We collect moments like they're souvenirs from places we'll never return to. Because the truth is, some things aren't meant to be kept. They're meant to break your heart a little, and leave you tender enough to love the next beautiful thing before it's gone, too.