I sometimes wonder how long it would take before anyone noticed I was truly gone.
Not the polite kind of gone; the missed phone calls, the unanswered texts, the empty chair at a familiar table. I mean gone in the deepest sense, like a light quietly extinguished in a distant room.
Would it be hours? Days? Would people assume I was busy, asleep, distracted by the ordinary weight of living? I imagine the world continuing with its usual indifference: traffic lights changing, coffee growing cold, conversations drifting from one subject to the next. Meanwhile, my absence would sit unnoticed among them like a shadow no one thought to question.
There's something unsettling about realizing how quietly a person can disappear. Not with a scream or a catastrophe, but with silence. As if existence leaves no echo at all, and the space where you once stood takes its time deciding whether it misses you.
Loading comments...