The silence

This silence feels like years ago… Where should I even start? If I talk about it, it’ll sound like I never moved on— like I’m still in love with you, desperate, begging. But tell me… did you ever look back? Did you ever wonder what happened to me after you left? No. You walked away, smiling at the beautiful future ahead of you. And here I am, after years, still living in the dark, ugly past you left behind. Did I even try to look for a future? No. I stayed— hoping it was all a dream, hoping it would change, fade away. So like a fool, I waited. For who exactly? The one who caused me pain… or the version of me I’ve been too afraid to meet? I don’t know. Is it you who trapped me here, or me who refused to leave? Maybe this silence isn’t yours at all. Maybe it’s mine. I created it— a prison of loneliness, built from fear. Fear of what, exactly? Fear of moving on? Fear of being free? Or maybe— fear of finding out I was always strong enough to live without you.