for my own peace

i don’t even know where to start. maybe with how much it hurts that she’s gone quiet. how it’s not even the silence that kills me, it’s the way it used to sound when she wasn’t. her voice in late-night talks, her laughter, the dumb jokes we made, the peace that came from just knowing she was there. all of it feels like it’s echoing in a room i can’t get back into.

i messed up. i said something i shouldn’t have, even if i didn’t mean harm. and i’ll never know if she’ll believe that. i just wish she could see that i cared. not in some fake way, but the kind of care that makes you check if she’s eaten, that makes you want to tell her every little thought ‘cause she was the only one who got it.

i talked to pierce about her once — told him it felt like we were destined to cross paths, even if not to stay. he said maybe she was never meant to be a forever person, just someone who showed me what connection could feel like when it’s real.

maybe he’s right. maybe this was supposed to break me open so i’d learn what love — even platonic — actually means. maybe this pain is the tax for having something that pure.

and yeah, it hurts like hell to know she’s out there laughing again, just not with me. but i’m still glad i met her. even if she never forgives me, even if the story’s over, i’ll keep the good parts close. the fountain show, the car rides, the inside jokes, the late nights, the trust we built. all of it meant something.

i’m still alive in the wreckage. bruised, but alive. and maybe that’s enough for now.