There was a time when I thought the worst feeling in life was pain. I was wrong. The worst feeling is nothing. Life was empty, just days repeating, meaningless moments blending into one blurry silence. Every morning felt heavy, each night even heavier. I wasn’t living. I wasn’t even dying. I was just… there. A placeholder. You’d be amazed how easy it is to get used to being hollow. After a while, silence feels like an old friend.

You learn strange things when you’re hollow. You learn that silence has a voice. You learn that breathing is voluntary. You learn that even emptiness can start to feel like home if you stay there long enough.

That should have been the end of it.
It almost was.
Until you.

And that’s when you walked in. Quietly, simply, you didn’t even try, yet you shook something deep in me. This wasn’t normal attraction; it felt stronger and scarier. It was as if something inside you recognized something inside me, something I’d forgotten, something that had been buried inside for a long fucking time.

I remember clearly: that day, sitting there, everything stopped when our eyes met. And your smile… fuck. You saw straight through all my walls. I felt exposed, vulnerable, real. Your smile lasted maybe a second. Maybe less. But that second? It’s been replaying on a fucking loop in my head ever since.

What is this? It’s not love, not exactly. It’s worse. It’s something that arrives when your soul is half-dead and reminds it how to scream. It’s something deeper, painful but beautiful, intense yet quiet. It’s a feeling I’ve never had, something I can’t properly describe. It touched places inside me I didn’t know were still alive. It woke something up, and now that it’s awake, I can’t put it back to sleep.

But here’s the thing:I know exactly how this ends. Life isn’t simple. We’re trapped by realities we can’t escape. Every small interaction, every quiet glance, draws us deeper into something impossible. There’s no future here, only a beautiful, painful present.

I’m writing this not because I expect you to understand, but because I have no other way to cope. Maybe you’ll read it, maybe you’ll recognize yourself between these words, maybe not. Either way, I had to say this, even if it’s just to the silence. You’ve given me something I never expected: a glimpse of what it feels like to be truly alive again. 

But with it comes pain, because now I know exactly what I’ve been missing. And when this fades, and it will fade. You’ll go back to your light. I’ll stay in the dark, only now, the dark feels heavier because it remembers what brightness tasted like. I’ll be left darker than before. You gave me something beautiful.