We didn’t mean to lose ourselves. We learned how to survive by shrinking, by performing, by staying half-visible. But somewhere under all the noise, the real parts of us are still waiting.

We thought busyness, success, and visibility could outrun the ache. We thought being wanted would be the same as being known. But real connection was never built on noise.

The real loneliness didn’t roar — it crept in. It lived in the spaces between all the noise we made to survive. And when the silence got too loud to ignore, we had to finally listen.

We thought connection lived out there — bigger cities, better circles, shinier lives. But we forgot to look for it in the slow, heavy spaces we were too scared to stay inside.

We didn’t hide because we were weak. We hid because it stopped feeling safe to be seen. But real healing starts when we stop abandoning ourselves to make other people comfortable.

Coming back to yourself doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a thousand stubborn choices to stay real when running would be easier — and to believe you’re worth staying for, even when it hurts.

At the end of it all, it isn’t who cheered the loudest — it’s who stayed when you stopped performing. Including you. Especially you.