I didn’t know I was lonely until I stopped talking to everyone.
Not in a dramatic, cut-the-world-off way. Just slowly, one unread message at a time. One “I’ll reply later” that turned into never. One weekend plan skipped. One birthday forgotten.
And then silence.
It felt peaceful, at first. Like I was reclaiming space. But a few weeks in, the silence started echoing back at me. I’d open Instagram just to see if someone still cared. I’d re-read old texts like they were proof I once mattered.
I told myself I was just tired.
But last night, I heard a stranger laugh—really laugh—on a café terrace as I walked by. And something cracked open. I missed that sound. I missed being part of it.
I missed being missed.
I don’t even know who I’m writing this for. I just needed to say it somewhere. To admit it.
Maybe that’s a start.
– Samriti Sharma
Relatable