Sometimes the thought comes quietly, the way dust settles when no one’s looking.

Not that she wants to… leave.

Not that she’s tired of being here.

Just this soft, persistent wondering:

What would happen if she wasn’t?

Not in a tragic sense. More abstract than that. Almost philosophical.

Like… what if she slipped sideways into another universe?

What if her life here simply… stopped being hers?

She thinks about how people talk when someone is gone. How sharp edges soften overnight. How resentment evaporates and turns into reverence. How distance becomes devotion. How “ ohhh we weren’t close” suddenly becomes “I wish I had said more.”

It has always f-cking annoyed her.

Why does absence earn grace that presence never did????

Why does disappearance rewrite history?

Keep the same energy!

That’s the phrase that always comes to mind.

If you misunderstood her.

If you didn’t see her clearly.

If you carried something unkind about her quietly…

keep that same energy.

Don’t turn her into someone easier to love once she’s no longer around to complicate the story.

Okay so recently she was watching a movie. It was the Breaking Bad follow up, the one where Jesse gets a chance to disappear. To buy himself a new name. A new past. A new life entirely. There’s a moment where he repeats his new identity like a spell, memorizing a version of himself untouched by grief or consequence.

The person she was watching with asked her casually,

“If you could do that… start over completely… would you?”

She said, “I don’t know.”

But that wasn’t the real answer.

The real answer is that she thinks about that question MORE OFTEN than she admits.

When she asked him the same thing, he said he would if his parents weren’t around. That sentence lingered with her longer than the movie did. For obvious reasons lol.

When he said that, something stirred quietly in her (not heavy, just unmistakable). She understood the tether he meant. Some lives are held in place by obligations you can point to, by people who need you in visible, practical ways. Hers was shaped by something less tangible. By the quiet pull of old spirits that once anchored her, and by the echo of a young life that never had the chance to fully arrive. None of it lived in the physical anymore, but the gravity remained. What surprised her wasn’t a sense of freedom. It was the vastness of standing in the world without those tethers taking form and realizing how subtly that absence changes the questions a person allows themselves to ask.

No one she was required to stay for in the way the world usually means it. Siblings have their own lives. Friends are building theirs. Everyone you love is moving forward, as they should!

And she is too of course. Trying, showing up, staying present.

Still, she sometimes wonders what would change if she stopped being visible in this reality. Not because she wants to disappear. But because she wonders what might finally be understood if she did.

If this is ever found somewhere in the quiet rubble of the internet… if she doesn’t wake up one day, or if she wakes up somewhere else entirely, she hopes it’s known that she tried. That she stayed true to herself: emotional, layered, strong, determined. Soft in a world that often rewards hardness.

She has succeeded in ways she once prayed for.

She has stumbled in ways that humbled her deeply.

She has known joy.

She has known grief heavy enough to change the shape of her breath.

But she never gave up.

Her heart was always bigger than her head. Honestly sometimes to her own detriment. She loved fully, believed deeply, felt everything without dialing it down. She wanted to know what it felt like to be loved with the same intensity she gave. Not cautiously. Not partially. Fully.

If tomorrow doesn’t come, she hopes she’s remembered as someone who stayed honest even when it cost her comfort. Someone who chose tenderness in a world that kept daring her to close.

She is still here.

Still choosing.

Still breathing.

And if she ever slips between realities, let it be known…

this was not a quiet life.

It was a full one.

She loves you.