The Idea

I was 19 When I cut ties with the people who raised me Not because I stopped loving them But because loving them meant losing me. Everyone says “You’re so brave” But no one talks about the loneliness That comes after survival. I sat in rooms full of people And still felt like a ghost. The world moved forward But I stayed stuck — in grief, in silence, in the ache of being unseen. I thought leaving would free me. But it unstitched everything. I was building a new life With shaking hands And no one to hold the blueprints. There were nights I nearly gave up — Not because I wanted to die But because I didn’t know how to live without a map. But then— Connection came in quiet ways. A friend who stayed. A puppy who trusted me. Someone who didn’t walk away when I let them see the real me. And somewhere in that I found my voice. I spoke. Not clean. Not calm. But real. And it saved me. Because loneliness doesn’t always mean being alone — Sometimes it’s the silence after you speak your truth and wonder if anyone heard. This is me telling you: I hear you. You’re not too much. You’re not alone. And your voice? It might just be the beginning of your way back.