the kind that would’ve made you laugh too loud,
the kind that bends your shoulders forward
and steals your breath in pieces
and for a moment,
my whole body turned toward you
like you were still there.
Like you were always there.
And in that fragile second,
time forgot its cruelty
and stitched the world back together
the way it used to be.
But then
like a cruel correction
silence answered me.
And I remembered.
You are gone.
And the world…
the world kept moving anyway.
It feels unfair, doesn’t it?
That clocks still tick,
that mornings still arrive,
that people still laugh
as if something sacred wasn’t stolen.
Because mine didn’t move on.
My time
it stopped right there,
at the edge of your absence,
frozen like a breath I never finished taking.
People say “life goes on,”
but they don’t understand
mine didn’t.
Not really.
Half of it left with you.
Half my heart learned how to beat in silence,
like it was afraid to make noise
in a world that no longer held your voice.
I carry the other half carefully,
like something cracked but still glowing,
like a lantern lit by memories
instead of flame.
And God
there are so many things I still want to tell you.
So many small, ordinary things
that suddenly became enormous
just because you’re not here to hear them.
I want to tell you about the days that felt too long,
and the nights that felt even longer.
About the random thoughts
that would’ve turned into hours of talking.
About the secrets I still keep
as if you’re waiting somewhere
to hear them all at once.
I replay conversations we never had,
stories we never finished,
jokes that never reached your ears.
They live in my mind like unopened letters
addressed to you,
with nowhere to send them.
Do you remember how we used to imagine the future?
Not in big, dramatic ways
but in small, quiet dreams.
The kind where we’d just be there
for each other.
Laughing at nothing.
Arguing about everything.
Sharing things no one else would understand.
I think about that life a lot.
The one that should’ve been.
The one where you stayed.
I know
I know it would’ve been amazing.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But ours.
And that would’ve been enough.
Fate…
what a strange, merciless thing.
It doesn’t ask.
It doesn’t explain.
It just takes.
And somehow expects the rest of us
to keep going
like nothing sacred was broken.
But something was.
Something irreplaceable.
You.
Sometimes I wonder
not in a way that hurts sharply,
but in a quiet, aching curiosity
If you were still here…
who would I be?
Would I laugh more?
Would I feel lighter?
Would the world seem less… incomplete?
Would I still feel like I’m searching
for something I can’t name?
Or would I already have it
standing right beside me?
You weren’t just my sister.
You were my mirror,
my echo,
my other half written in a different handwriting.
My twin in ways the world could never measure.
A soulmate,
not the kind people talk about lightly
but the kind that feels like
you were never meant to exist separately.
And now I walk this life
like a sentence missing its second half.
Still readable.
Still moving.
But never quite whole.
I like to imagine you somewhere peaceful
not far,
just… beyond reach.
Like a star I can’t touch
but can still see if I look long enough.
And maybe
just maybe
you hear me sometimes.
In the quiet.
In the spaces between words.
In the moments when I laugh
and then suddenly feel like crying.
If there’s a place where time is kinder,
where distance doesn’t exist,
where love doesn’t get interrupted
then I know we’ll meet again.
Not as strangers.
Not as people who need to explain anything.
Just us.
Picking up a conversation
that never truly ended.
Until then…
I will carry you
in every quiet moment,
in every story I wish I could tell you,
in every laugh that feels incomplete.
I will miss you
in ways words can’t fully hold.
I will mourn you
not just with sadness,
but with love that refuses to fade.
Because you are not just someone I lost.
You are someone I still have
just in a different way.
In memory.
In feeling.
In the parts of me
that will always belong to you.
And wherever you are
whatever this distance really means
you will always be
my forever soulmate.
My twin.
My missing half.
My always.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 6:14 PM UTC
the kind that would’ve made you laugh too loud,
the kind that bends your shoulders forward
and steals your breath in pieces
and for a moment,
my whole body turned toward you
like you were still there.
Like you were always there.
And in that fragile second,
time forgot its cruelty
and stitched the world back together
the way it used to be.
But then
like a cruel correction
silence answered me.
And I remembered.
You are gone.
And the world…
the world kept moving anyway.
It feels unfair, doesn’t it?
That clocks still tick,
that mornings still arrive,
that people still laugh
as if something sacred wasn’t stolen.
Because mine didn’t move on.
My time
it stopped right there,
at the edge of your absence,
frozen like a breath I never finished taking.
People say “life goes on,”
but they don’t understand
mine didn’t.
Not really.
Half of it left with you.
Half my heart learned how to beat in silence,
like it was afraid to make noise
in a world that no longer held your voice.
I carry the other half carefully,
like something cracked but still glowing,
like a lantern lit by memories
instead of flame.
And God
there are so many things I still want to tell you.
So many small, ordinary things
that suddenly became enormous
just because you’re not here to hear them.
I want to tell you about the days that felt too long,
and the nights that felt even longer.
About the random thoughts
that would’ve turned into hours of talking.
About the secrets I still keep
as if you’re waiting somewhere
to hear them all at once.
I replay conversations we never had,
stories we never finished,
jokes that never reached your ears.
They live in my mind like unopened letters
addressed to you,
with nowhere to send them.
Do you remember how we used to imagine the future?
Not in big, dramatic ways
but in small, quiet dreams.
The kind where we’d just be there
for each other.
Laughing at nothing.
Arguing about everything.
Sharing things no one else would understand.
I think about that life a lot.
The one that should’ve been.
The one where you stayed.
I know
I know it would’ve been amazing.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But ours.
And that would’ve been enough.
Fate…
what a strange, merciless thing.
It doesn’t ask.
It doesn’t explain.
It just takes.
And somehow expects the rest of us
to keep going
like nothing sacred was broken.
But something was.
Something irreplaceable.
You.
Sometimes I wonder
not in a way that hurts sharply,
but in a quiet, aching curiosity
If you were still here…
who would I be?
Would I laugh more?
Would I feel lighter?
Would the world seem less… incomplete?
Would I still feel like I’m searching
for something I can’t name?
Or would I already have it
standing right beside me?
You weren’t just my sister.
You were my mirror,
my echo,
my other half written in a different handwriting.
My twin in ways the world could never measure.
A soulmate,
not the kind people talk about lightly
but the kind that feels like
you were never meant to exist separately.
And now I walk this life
like a sentence missing its second half.
Still readable.
Still moving.
But never quite whole.
I like to imagine you somewhere peaceful
not far,
just… beyond reach.
Like a star I can’t touch
but can still see if I look long enough.
And maybe
just maybe
you hear me sometimes.
In the quiet.
In the spaces between words.
In the moments when I laugh
and then suddenly feel like crying.
If there’s a place where time is kinder,
where distance doesn’t exist,
where love doesn’t get interrupted
then I know we’ll meet again.
Not as strangers.
Not as people who need to explain anything.
Just us.
Picking up a conversation
that never truly ended.
Until then…
I will carry you
in every quiet moment,
in every story I wish I could tell you,
in every laugh that feels incomplete.
I will miss you
in ways words can’t fully hold.
I will mourn you
not just with sadness,
but with love that refuses to fade.
Because you are not just someone I lost.
You are someone I still have
just in a different way.
In memory.
In feeling.
In the parts of me
that will always belong to you.
And wherever you are
whatever this distance really means
you will always be
my forever soulmate.
My twin.
My missing half.
My always.