The Nothing I Became

There’s a particular kind of disappearing that happens so gradually you don’t even notice. You make yourself smaller to keep the peace. You let go of something you wanted because it’s easier than the silence that follows if you don’t. You stop calling the people you love because it’s simpler that way. And one day you find yourself sitting somewhere - a front room, a car, the edge of a bed - and you’re crying, but you couldn’t tell anyone why if they asked.

This song lives in those late nights when I was the only one awake. I’d go outside into the darkness, lie down, and look up at the stars. It was the only place I could breathe. The only time I felt like I still existed somewhere. There’s a strange comfort in the middle of the night when the world is asleep and you don’t have to be anyone for anyone. Just you and the vast indifferent sky, and for a few minutes, that’s enough.

“Holding On While Letting Go” - I was doing both at the same time, just to the wrong things. Holding on to something that was already dead. Letting go of myself without realizing I was doing it. By the time I understood what had happened, I barely recognized who I’d become. Or hadn’t become. The nothing I became.

This is a eulogy for that version of me - the one who got lost in there. But it’s also what comes after. The painful, exhausting, expensive work of choosing yourself again. Of mourning the future you thought you had. Of starting over when you’re not even sure what you’re starting from. It’s not a triumphant ending. It’s just… continuing. Deciding that you still get to exist. That maybe that’s enough.