What do you do when the healing worked but your life didn't get the memo? You’re reading this because a part of you still aches for someone who is no longer there. It’s like a phantom limb, isn’t it? You reach for them in the middle of the night, your thumb still hovers over their name in your contacts, a certain song comes on the radio and your chest seizes up with a grief so sharp, so specific, it steals your breath. You tell yourself you’re over it. You tell your friends you’re fine. You might even believe it, for a few hours at a time. But then the ghost of what was, or what you hoped would be, comes roaring back, and you’re right back in the rubble. You see happy couples and a bitter poison floods your mouth. You scroll through your phone, a digital archaeologist excavating the ruins of a shared life, torturing yourself with pictures and old messages. You wonder, “Will I ever feel that way again? Will anyone ever see me like that again?” The thought of a first date feels both terrifying and exhausting. The idea of being vulnerable with someone new feels like