Some days arrive quietly, without storms or heartbreak, nothing obviously broken, and yet something inside you feels still. You laugh with your friends, reply to messages, sit in places filled with warmth, and still there's this soft, unmoving space within you that doesn't echo back the joy you're supposed to feel. It isn't sadness, because sadness has weight and reasons but this is lighter, almost invisible like holding air and realizing there's nothing to hold. And it feels like there's a piece of you missing, not torn away, not shattered, just quietly misplaced, like it slipped out of your life one ordinary day and never made a sound. You walk around whole enough for the world, smiling at the right moments, laughing when you're supposed to, but deep inside there's this soft hollow, like a room with one window left open, letting a gentle emptiness drift in and stay. Maybe this isn't the absence of something, but the beginning of something you haven't met yet, something that will one day fill this space so naturally, you'll forget it was ever empty.