You know it's time to let go when you board the plane, and leave it all behind. So you tell them you’ve moved on, but you don't.

You know it's time to let go when the whole world moves forward, yet you find yourself replaying the clips in your head over and over and over again. You realize it when you can't be present, and live in the moment you're in, because you're so enamored with a vision of the past that no longer exists. So you tell them you’ve moved on, but you don't.

You know it's time to let go when the tan fades, and real life is demanding you catch up. When your hair loses its summer curls, and the the hours you lay awake are engraving circles under your eyes. So you tell them you’ve moved on, but you don't.

You know it's time to let go when you consistently compare then to now. When nothing now is as brilliant as it was then. When no experience makes you as high on life. So you tell them you’ve moved on, but you don't.

You know it's time to let go when the phone calls fade, and the texts simmer down to nothing. When the group chat quiets and the pictures stop coming, you start to feel that void in your gut, the one that makes you wonder if you made a terrible mistake. So you tell them you’ve moved on, but you don't.

And one day, it starts to get cold, and you finally realize how far away it all really is. So on that day, you finally accept that it's time to let go, because you suspect that they already did. And when their story begins to host someone new, you know they have.

You finally realize that whatever it was, it's gone - you are the only one left holding on. You remember how many incredible things you have in your life, all of which you have been neglecting. You remember the happy person you can be, before they were a part of your story. You begin to remember that the value of your present is not determined by someone else, but by what you bring to the table.

So you stop saying you've moved on, and you actually do. Because sometimes, holding on, does so much more damage than letting go.