the silence around me now feels louder
than their voices ever did.
it presses in on me,
fills the corners of the room
until i can’t tell if it’s the air or me
that feels so heavy.

i sit,
staring at the hundreds of games i own,
lined up like memories i don’t remember,
stories i can’t step into anymore.
every cover asks me who i am,
and i don’t have the answer.

i scroll.
i cry.
i pace.
all these motions,
but none of them lead anywhere.
i’m trying to taste the version of myself
that wasn’t always so hollow,
but she feels like a stranger now
someone i used to know
and lost along the way.

i open games.
close them.
open them again, expecting something to change.
searching for myself in loops,
like maybe if i click enough times,
i’ll stumble into a spark of who i used to be.
but my screen only reflects a face back at me, my face,
and even that feels borrowed.

just my own heartbeat,
and the echo of nobody.
and god, alone?
even saying it out loud
feels exhausting.

but maybe this is what being okay is
sitting with the hollowness,
staring into the shelves of things i thought i loved,
empty palms waiting,
open hands aching,
hoping one day they’ll close around something
that feels like me again.