Ashes and Echoes

I used to think there were only two choices— Player or Played. But what I really wanted was someone who would stay when the silence got too loud, when words ran dry. Someone to choose me, not just want me. I looked for them in smiles, in short texts, in brown eyes that said everything but never stayed long enough to prove it. I gave loyalty like it was endless. I gave hands even when mine were shaking. And when it all fell apart, I asked myself if it was a mistake to care that deeply for someone who didn’t stay. But even mistakes shape us. Some days, I felt lucky. Lucky to hear her voice, to see joy ripple across her face. Other days, I burned everything that reminded me. Not to erase her. But to see if I could finally find me. I’ve known what it feels like to be free but alone— to walk with no one beside you, hearing only the echo of your own footsteps. And I’ve learned that silence, the right kind of silence, can be a beginning too. Because even when everything fades, Time never lies. It shows you who stays, what’s real, and what was never yours. So here I am now— not perfect, not healed, but honest. Still asking hard questions. Still feeling too much. Still here. And maybe that’s enough. Because if there’s a spark left under all this ash, then I haven’t really lost myself. I’ve just been quiet, waiting to rise again