"If I press my forehead to yours,
if I breathe you in like night air,
if my hands tremble just once
know this:
Even the devil loses control..
only when something matters enough."
Hii, good afternoon,
I know it's been a long time since I last spoke to you, since my words last found their way to your screen. I went on a hiatus, but the truth is… I didn't just disappear from writing. I disappeared from myself. From my own life. I was still here, still existing in the same world, yet somehow I wasn't present.
Everything around me stayed exactly where it was, unchanged on the surface, and yet everything inside me shifted, cracked, and rearranged itself.
I don't even know what I want to say now. My thoughts feel scattered, my emotions heavier than they used to be. But one thing remained constant, even in my silence-I missed you. I missed this space. I missed the quiet connection between a writer and their readers, the unspoken understanding that lives between the lines. I missed knowing that somewhere, someone was waiting for my words.
So I'm here again, standing at the place where everything stopped, hoping I can gently pick up the story from where it broke off. Hoping time hasn't erased the bond we built. I hope you're not angry with me for leaving without warning, for choosing silence when I should have spoken. Please believe me when I say I never left because I stopped caring. I left because I didn't know how to write while I was losing myself.
If you're still here,if you're still willing-I want to continue. Not as the same person I was before, but as someone who fell apart, survived it, and came back with a deeper heart and steadier hands. Thank you for your patience, for your quiet faith, and for waiting-whether for days or forever.
