The One Who Lost, “This Is Why I Speak” by walking shadow

You may think
I don’t notice the pattern.

The way my voice lowers
when I bring them up.
The way the room grows quiet
when I start telling it again.

Trust me, I know.

But there is something you must understand.

When someone who shaped your world
suddenly vanishes,
the silence they leave behind
does not stay quiet.

It echoes.

And sometimes
the only way I know how to soften that echo
is to speak about them.

Yes, I tell the same story.

Because that moment
split my life in two.

Before.
And after.

Before, I was held.
After, I had to hold myself.

Before, there was guidance.
After, there was guessing.

Before, there was safety.
After, there was survival.

You see repetition.
I feel the weight of memory
that never found a proper goodbye.

I was expected to move on.
To adjust.
To be strong.

And I did.

But strength can be lonely.
Strength can be loud on the outside
and trembling underneath.

When I speak about them,
I am not trying to stay wounded.

I am trying to keep love alive.

Because if I stop telling the story,
I fear the world will forget
how important they were.

And if the world forgets,
then what do I have left?

I am not stuck.
I am healing slowly.

Healing does not always look like progress.
Sometimes it looks like returning
until the memory hurts less.

One day,
I will speak more about my victories
than my losses.

One day,
their names will bring more warmth
than tears.

But until that day,
thank you
for not walking away
when the subject feels familiar.

I am not trying to drag you backward.

I am trying to gather the pieces
so I can finally move forward.

And when I do,
you will see
that I was never just
the one who lost.

I was always
the one
learning how to live again.

The One Who Lost, “This Is Why I Speak”