I stopped writing for a while. Not completely, but enough that the thoughts started collecting faster than I knew what to do with them. Life became routine, work filled the hours, and somewhere in the middle of all of that, I convinced myself I was doing fine. Or at least fine enough to stop turning feelings into words.
Then I let someone in again after more than a year of avoiding dating altogether. Four months of conversations, attention, late-night thoughts, and slowly remembering what it felt like to look forward to someone.
And then, out of nowhere, silence. No fight. No explanation. Just gone.
It is strange how quickly ghosting can make you question your worth, especially when you were already carrying quiet doubts long before they arrived.
Maybe that is why I am back here now. Because some things sit too heavily when they stay trapped in your head. Because overthinking eventually needs somewhere to go.
Because sometimes the only way I know how to make sense of myself is to put more pen to paper and hope the weight feels a little lighter afterward.