I don’t know if this is the place for a little poetic theme. Feels like I need to get this out. Eighteen Months Eighteen months ago, something in me went quiet. Not the kind of quiet that heals. The kind that hollows. I have buried people I loved and grieved them true, but nothing prepared me for this. A loss with no casket, no ceremony, just an absence that keeps unpacking its bags and staying. I keep waiting for the version of me that laughs without checking first if it’s allowed to. I don’t know if he’s coming back. I only know I’m still here, still breathing through the parts that don’t make sense yet.