A haunting reflection on disappearing inside yourself, moving through life as a shadow, and quietly waiting to feel whole again.
I still answer to my name,
though it belongs to someone else.
I cross each day
like a shadow dressed as me,
smiling when the room expects it.
No one noticed I was leaving—
they kept speaking
to the shape I left behind.
I watch the seasons pass,
each one touching the windows,
but never reaching me.
Somewhere beneath the silence,
I am still waiting
to come back.
Writing from the place where silence becomes confession.
Writer and Author.
Where I Went Missing A haunting reflection on disappearing inside yourself, moving through life as a shadow, and quietly waiting to feel whole again. I still answer to my name, though it belongs to someone else. I cross each day like a shadow dressed as me, smiling when the room expects it. No one noticed I was leaving— they kept speaking to the shape I left behind. I...
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