It's strange, the way absence lingers. It isn't like a person who simply leaves, the door slamming shut behind them. No, absence is quieter. More insidious. It sneaks into the empty corners of your life, filling every crack and crevice with a silence so thick, you wonder if you'll ever remember the sound of their voice. The emptiness my father left behind still echoes in everything I do. Every time I paint, I see the void he created in me. Every time I laugh with friends, there's a part of me that wonders if I'm ever going to stop feeling so... alone. I'm still trying to untangle the mess of a relationship I never truly had. I've tried to fill the silence with art, with new friendships, with a love I wasn't sure I deserved. But I've stopped waiting for him to show up. For the apology that I know will never come. Sometimes, I wonder if that's the hardest part-the waiting. To live your life, always waiting for something you know will never happen. But the waiting is over. Now, it's my turn to step forward. And maybe, just maybe, I can finally build something of my own.