It is funny how back then I used to indeed enjoy every single part of our encounterment, but when they are not longer there especially in recent months, I start to feel as if something missing , I start to realize how essential you were as part of the day, how lovely the conversation is, it is so contradictory that I value the things only we I lose them, and when they are not around, yours is different, I really be longing for your text when a day pass quietly and you don’t send anything.

It is funny how, back then, I genuinely enjoyed every single part of our encounters without questioning them. they simply existed, naturally, effortlessly. but when they were no longer there, especially in these recent months, I started to feel as if something was missing . not loudly, not all at once, but quietly, in small moments that suddenly felt empty.

I began to realize how essential you were to my days. how much your presence shaped their texture. how lovely our conversations were, how easily they filled time, how they made ordinary hours feel lighter. it is strange, and a little cruel, how I seem to recognize the value of things only after I lose them.

And when you are not around, it feels different. yours is a different kind of absence. I find myself longing for your text when a day passes quietly and you do not send anything. not because something dramatic happened, but because your words had become part of the rhythm of my day, and without them, the silence feels heavier than it should.