missing someone while choosing silence is a different kind of suffering.
It’s staring at your phone with words burning at your fingertips, then swallowing them whole because you know reaching out would only reopen wounds that never really healed.
Not because the love is gone, but because it’s still there, too alive, too fragile, too dangerous.
So you sit with it. With the ache, the memories, the unsent paragraph
I think I met the saddest version of myself this year. I’ve been feeling so drained, emotional, and lost lately. I don’t even recognize myself sometimes. I cry over things I used to be strong enough to handle, and honestly, I hate feeling this sensitive. I keep telling everyone I’m okay, but deep down, I know I’m not. I miss the old me. the one who was happier, lighter, and didn’t overthink everything. I miss having a genuine spark in me.
I just want to bounce back, man. I really miss my spark, my energy, the version of me that felt alive and excited about life. I know I’m still in there somewhere I just need to find my way back to myself. 🤍
It sucks because, for a moment, I was genuinely happy. For a moment, I felt like I was getting better, like maybe things were finally starting to make sense again. For a moment, I had hope. And then somehow, in the blink of an eye, it all slipped away again. I hate how quickly you can go from feeling okay to wondering how you got back here.