Dear Your Voice,
I didn’t expect to miss you this much.
Two weeks passed like a quiet pause, and I thought maybe, I was getting better. I thought your absence would dull the feeling, that the silence would help me move on. But then you returned, and just one moment of hearing you again unraveled everything I had carefully tried to pack away.
There’s something about you that feels like a familiar song — soft, warm, and so achingly beautiful that it hurts to listen, and yet I never want to turn it off. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the calm in your tone, the quiet strength that hides beneath it, or the way it gently cuts through the noise of my day. Whatever it is, I find myself clinging to echoes.
But here’s the truth I must face:
I can’t keep loving the sound of something that will never speak to me the way I hope it would.
So, I write this letter not to you — the person — but to your voice. The part of you that lingers when you are long gone. The part of you that didn’t do anything wrong but still holds me hostage in memories.
I will miss you.
I will still turn my head when I hear you.
But little by little, I will teach my heart that loving your voice doesn't mean holding onto you.
Someday, I hope your voice becomes just another sound in the world — a beautiful one, yes, but not the one that breaks me anymore.
With gentleness and goodbye,
Me
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