Between Welcome and Goodbye Poem Announcement

Every year,
there’s a point where I quietly disappear.

Not in a dramatic way.
I just slowly stop existing in people’s lives.

Replies get shorter,
the world gets quieter,
and eventually I learn how to survive without being looked for.

I used to think loneliness was peaceful.

Then you happened.

And now silence feels unbearable
because it has your absence inside it.

You come online for a few minutes
without realizing someone spent the whole day
hoping those minutes would happen.

You reply so normally,
so casually,
while on the other side of the screen
my entire mood learns how to breathe again.

And maybe that’s the tragedy of this whole thing—

you probably don’t even know
you became important.

Sometimes I convince myself
you’re just kind.
That you talk to everyone like this.
That I accidentally gave meaning
to something ordinary for you.

But then why does your silence feel personal
when you never promised me anything?

People tell me you’re unpredictable.
That your life is full of chaos, drama, people, noise.

And I sit there wondering
if my existence even reaches you
the way yours reaches me.

Because if I disappeared tomorrow,
your days would probably continue normally.

But mine?

Mine would still pause
every time your notification sound played
in someone else’s phone.

And maybe that’s why
I never told you any of this.

Because the saddest part wasn’t loving you.

It was realizing
you made me feel less alone
during the exact season
I was preparing myself
to disappear again.