I Saw Your Profile And Clicked On It

I saw your profile and clicked on it.

Not out of spite, not to dig or snoop or stir anything up. Just one of those nights where you lie in bed, scrolling, and a name pops into your head you didn’t expect. A curiosity that doesn’t come with anger— just that quiet, “I wonder how they’re doing now.”

And there you were.

New profile picture. A tattoo I hadn’t seen before. I saw other pictures. You have a boyfriend. And you looked different, but somehow familiar — like someone who had grown into herself. More than anything, you looked happy.

I found myself saying it out loud, without even thinking, “She looks so happy. I’m happy for her.”

And I meant it.

To be honest, that kind of surprised me. Not because I wish you harm — I don’t. But there’s still this ache in me that lingers when I think about how things ended between us. An ache I usually tuck away quietly.

The truth is, our friendship ended in a way that still hurts more than I usually admit.

You made a decision that felt like you chose something — or someone — over me during a time when I was drowning. A time I truly needed the people in my life to show up. And when you didn’t? I lost it. I snapped, said what I said, and felt what I felt. You did, too.

And that was it.

There was no dramatic blowout for the world to see. Just silence. Space. The quiet, slow unspooling of a friendship that once felt like family.

And that silence never really got filled.

I moved on with my life — new people, new routines, new healing. But you still live in that corner of my memory, one where the laughter was real and the friendship ran deep. Where it felt like we understood each other better than anyone else could.

So seeing your face again — not in a dream, not in a memory, but now — smiling, and being next to someone who clearly brings you joy? It didn’t sting the way I thought it would.

It just made me…pause.

Let’s be real: I don’t know this version of you anymore. And you don’t know this version of me.

We’ve grown. Changed. Gotten harder in some places, softer in others. But I remember who we were. I remember the girl I used to be when you were in my life — the one who used to laugh with you until our sides hurt, who told you everything, who trusted you without question. That girl — the one who really loved you as a sister — she’s still somewhere in me. And she is happy to see you happy.

And that matters.

We don’t have to talk again, nor do we need to rehash it. I’m not sending this to you. You’ll probably never see it, and that’s okay. This is for me.

Sometimes, we hold onto things, long after they’re gone, just to remind ourselves that it was real. That it meant something, even if it ended before we wanted it to.

I don’t wish you harm or want to go backward. And I don’t want to reopen old wounds or force apologies that may never come.

But I want you to know — even if only through the quiet energy of the universe — that I’m still rooting for you.

You might not be at my table anymore, but I still want you to eat. I hope that your heart feels full and your days feel light. Whoever you’re with, I hope they see the things in you I once did. And I hope your tattoo means something beautiful — because I know you, and you don’t get inked for no reason.

You deserve joy and peace. And even though we’re not in each other’s lives anymore, I truly hope you’ve found both.

So, yeah. I saw your profile. I clicked on it.

And I didn’t fall apart.
I didn’t rage-scroll.
I didn’t take a screenshot to send to someone for validation.

Instead, I just sat there. Quiet. Still.

And I smiled.

Because it’s okay to miss someone and still wish them well.
It’s okay to love someone who isn’t in your life anymore.
t’s okay to outgrow a friendship and not root against them.

If your name ever crosses my mind — and sometimes, it still does — I hope the energy I’m sending out feels warm. I hope it finds you safe. Loved. Growing.

You don’t know this version of me. And I don’t know this version of you.

But I remember what we had.

And even from far away, I’ll always be cheering for you.

Featured image via Nadia Jamnik on Unsplash