I'm grateful for the good things in life, but is it wrong to sometimes hate life.
The silent change
Once, my words were rivers, flowing freely into your hands, laughter echoing in shared spaces, secrets blooming in the quiet. Now, the echoes fade to whispers, half-heard, half-held, half-lost. Some of you have vanished like dusk, and those who remain their ears are full of everything but me. I try to speak, but my voice dissolves, drowned in the weight of what’s missing. I used to offer my heart in handfuls, but now, I keep some for myself. So I sit with my unspoken thoughts, not as a prisoner, but as a friend. I am learning the language of solitude, not as a burden, but as a gift. Even in silence, I still exist. Even alone, I still grow.
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