growing out of things is sad.
whether it’s your favourite pair of shoes, a book or a friend.
but then there’s also growing into things.
emotions, gaps in reason, people you swore you’d never understand or that pair of purple jeans you thought you could never pull off.
you could grow into things that you cast aside, whether pseudo victoriously or sadly; years, weeks, months ago and suddenly, you’re old enough. good enough. or plain happy/satisfied/content enough.
it finally fits into that hole in your heart and the void gets closer and closer to disappearing.
you don’t live happily ever after but it’s a step forward… it is.