No one is Betty.
DISCLAIMER: This read is fictional
I didn’t think I would like someone again this quickly.
Or maybe not quickly… just… this way.
Because after Betty, I told myself certain things.
I would be wiser.
More careful.
Less available.
But then I met her.
And the strange thing is… she feels familiar.
Not in a “you remind me of Betty” way.
No.
In a weirder way.
She’s pretty.
She’s calm, but not boring.
Soft, but not weak.
Smart in a way that doesn’t need to prove itself.
The kind of person you can talk to… and not feel like you’re forcing anything.
And just like before… it started simple.
Conversations.
Small moments.
Nothing serious.
But I’ve learned something now.
Or at least, I think I have.
Because this time, I’m paying attention.
Not just to her.
But to myself.
The way I respond.
The way I attach.
The way I almost start writing stories in my head before anything has even happened.
And I stop myself.
Because the truth is… this is not Betty.
And that matters.
Because I realised something I didn’t understand before:
I wasn’t just loving Betty.
I was loving the idea of her.
The version of her I believed in.
The version of her I kept hoping she would become.
And somewhere in that…
I lost the real version.
I’m not doing that again.
This girl, she doesn’t have to be better than Betty.
She doesn’t have to fix what Betty broke.
She doesn’t have to prove anything.
Because she is not a continuation.
She is not a replacement.
She is just… herself.
And maybe that’s the difference this time.
I’m not trying to rewrite a story.
I’m trying to read this one as it is.
Slowly. Honestly. Without rushing the ending.
Do I like her?
Yes.
Am I scared?
A little.
But not of her, of repeating myself.
Because it’s easy to think you’ve grown… until you’re in a situation that looks familiar.
So this time, I’m choosing something different.
Not distance.
Not detachment.
Just awareness.
And maybe, if this becomes something… it won’t be because I forced it or imagined it into existence, maybe it will just be because:
we were honest
we were present
we didn’t try to be anything we’re not
And if it doesn’t?
Then at least I’ll know this:
I didn’t lose myself trying to hold onto someone.
Because at the end of the day…
No one is Betty.
And maybe that’s exactly the point.
