There’s a kind of silence that isn’t peaceful. It doesn’t soothe. It doesn’t heal.
It screams. Loudly. Endlessly.
It echoes through your bones when you lie awake at 3AM, staring at a ceiling that never answers back.
It pulses in your chest when you smile during the day, pretending everything is fine, while your soul is bleeding quietly underneath.

They say healing comes with time. But they never told me that time can be cruel.
That every minute can stretch into an eternity when you’re trying to forget the way someone used to say your name.
That every hour is a battlefield where your own thoughts become your enemy.
Where every memory feels like a knife you’re too tired to pull out.

I’ve learned that you can miss someone who hurt you.
That you can crave the fire even when it burned you to the bone.
That sometimes… the hardest person to let go of is the one who made you question your worth.
Because they once made you feel like you had it.

But here’s what I also know now:
Pain does not mean you are broken.
And silence does not mean you are alone.

Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is whisper to yourself:
I survived.
And sometimes, surviving is enough.

Let the silence scream.
Let the past ache.
You’re still here. And that matters more than you think.

Always and Forever