I started writing goodbye letters today. Not because the world ended but because something inside of me felt quite enough to disappear. 

I imagined the people reading them. Their faces pausing, their hearts pulling tight,— missing me for just a moment. And then life continuing, because that’s what life does. The world keeps spinning like I was never here at all.And the quiet voice in my head whispers, “just do it, they won’t even notice you gone.” 

I went to work today, like every other day. Sat in meetings. Smiled. I even laughed. I did everything put in front of me like a body that knows the routine. And when I left I cried – not the polite kind of crying but the kind that breaks open your ribs like a storm that waited too long. Because I’m numb, yet I feel everything. 

I keep thinking about everything I could have been, finishing this or that or going here or there and all of my dreams that I envisioned for myself. I could have. I should have. I think I was born to love and born to break. 

And now it feels like I’m drowning. Not the dramatic kind—not the kind where people see the splashing. No. The quiet kind. The kind where you slip under the water slowly, silently while standing in a crowded room.

And no one notices. And if they do notice—they’re not there to hand you a life jacket. I know it’s not their job to save me.

But somewhere deep inside I know something else. I know this pain will go away eventually. I know the sadness sitting in my heart like heavy rain clouds won’t stay forever. I know people will love me again. I know peace will come. I know the rain sometimes breaks into colors and the sky has surprised me before. 

But right now— right now in this moment—I’m not really here. I’m a body moving through the day, doing everything it’s supposed to do. But inside—what’s left of me is quiet.

And the strange thing is I’ve fought my way out of darkness before. Too many times. Enough times to know that eventually the light finds you again. But this time…This time feels different. This doesn’t feel like before.

This time feels more tragic. Because this time, I’m just alone, clawing my way upward through heavy water, through silence, through invisible weight and realizing— I don’t have much fight left in me anymore. But somehow my heart is still beating.

And maybe— just maybe— that means some small part of me is still trying to stay. 

JMS