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“there is a silence that i can’t name feels like the air is getting heavier by the regrets that i long carry by the time when i hesitated to say what i had to maybe that’s why the night feels colder than it used to when i could name what it was maybe that’s why the rain started to feel like reminder rather than comfort and i sit here, listening to the rhythm of it, thinking about all the words i let slip into nothing, all the moments i held back because i feared the weight of my own voice. but even in this quiet, there’s a pulse — subtle, stubborn — telling me that i can still try, that even heavy air can carry a whisper if i finally let it out.”