Sometimes I wonder when the last time was
that I was happy without noticing it.
When I laughed freely,
without knowing I would one day miss that sound.
Because sadness doesn’t arrive loudly.
It doesn’t break in.
It slips in quietly
and sits beside you like it belongs there.
Little by little, it takes the light away
until you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.
There are nights when silence feels so heavy
it could break something inside your chest.
And in that silence, memories return.
People who said they would stay.
Hugs that no longer exist.
Versions of me
that disappeared without anyone noticing.
How strange it is
to lose what is still alive inside your mind.
To close your eyes
and hear voices that are gone,
laughter that will never return,
words like “I love you”
that now only exist in echoes.
And it hurts.
Not like something sharp.
More like emptiness learning your name.
Like an abandoned room
that still remembers being warm.
Like a letter written for someone
who will never open it.
Like waiting a lifetime
for someone who is already gone.
Sometimes I wish I could go back.
Not to change anything.
Just to stay a little longer.
To hold on a little tighter.
To understand, just for a moment,
that it was going to end.
Because we never know
when something becomes “the last time.”
The last conversation.
The last laugh.
The last goodbye.
And when we finally understand it,
it is already too late.
So I stay here.
Carrying memories heavier than my body,
watering the graves
of things that never fully died.
Because some absences don’t leave.
They stay inside you, breathing quietly.
And some people never truly go away—
they just become shadows
that sit forever
where your heart used to be.