I've sat across from someone saying exactly what you're feeling right now. It’s not just that you miss them. It’s that their ghost is sleeping in your bed, sitting in the passenger seat of your car, looking back at you from the mirror. You check their social media, a knot of dread and hope tightening in your stomach. You scroll through old photos, a masochistic pilgrimage into a past that feels more real than your present. Your thumb hovers over their name in your contacts, a tiny bomb you are endlessly tempted to detonate. There’s a physical ache in your chest, a hollowness that no amount of distraction can fill. You tell your friends you’re fine, that you’re moving on, but your body knows you’re lying. Your body is still tethered to them, caught in a loop of memory and longing that feels impossible to break. Let’s be brutally honest. In my years of working in this territory, I've seen that most of the advice you get about “letting go” is absolute garbage. It’s cheap, flimsy spiritual bypassing disguised as wisdom. “Just decide to move on.” “Time heals all wounds.” “Everything happens for a reason.” These are the platitudes of