photo by https://unsplash.com/photos/a-bottle-of-wine-and-a-lamp-on-a-table-YFlUnItTTA0
There comes a time when words lose their weight.
When every message feels like an echo of something long gone.
You write, you wait, you hope — and still, the silence grows louder.
I used to believe that one more letter could fix what distance had broken. That maybe the right words could reopen the door. But then I realized — sometimes no answer is the answer.
No more correspondence doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It means I’ve said everything that needed to be said, and finally, I’ve learned to listen to the quiet.
The unsent letter sits on my desk, edges curling like an old memory. It’s not sadness that keeps me from sending it — it’s peace.
Because some stories end not with a goodbye, but with a full stop. And that’s okay