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Kinda poetic, isn't it?

How a person can simply vanish.

One day they're here, breathing the same air as everyone else, and the next they're gone. The world doesn't pause. The sun still rises, alarms still ring, people still go to work, laugh at jokes, complain about being tired. Life continues with an almost cruel indifference.

You find yourself wondering about it sometimes. Whether people ever notice the silence you leave behind, or if absence eventually becomes just another thing people learn to live around. Memories fade, conversations change, and the spaces once occupied by someone slowly fill with other things.

Maybe that's what unsettles me most. Not that everything ends, but that everything continues.

The streets remain busy. The nights remain quiet. Time keeps moving forward whether you're ready for it or not.

And somewhere in all that motion, it's easy to feel small. Temporary. Like a passing shadow that existed for a moment and then slipped away unnoticed.

Perhaps that's the poetry of it all how fragile a life can be, and how indifferent the world seems in its wake.