So it’s settled.
Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, I’ll walk away from this apartment
—and everything it holds.
I need silence.
Not the kind that echoes, but the kind that lets me bleed thoughts without interruption.
I need to sit with the ghosts of what we were, stare into the face of what we’ve become, and ask the future if there’s still room for me—without us.
This isn’t running.
This is choosing solitude over noise.
Clarity over chaos.
And maybe, just maybe, this is how I find myself again.
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