Found and Lost

There were days once
when life felt gentle.

Days when laughter came easily,
when conversations flowed without effort,
when a single moment
was enough to fill the heart.

There were evenings
when being around people
felt like belonging —
when smiles were returned,
when presence was noticed,
when the world felt
a little less heavy.

There were moments
when friendships carried warmth,
when a simple word of care
felt like sunlight after rain.

For a while,
it seemed as though life
had given me a place to stand,
a space to breathe,
a quiet corner
where my presence mattered.

But somewhere along the way,
that warmth faded — quietly.

Now I know
how it feels
to stand among people
and still feel completely alone.

To be part of a circle,
yet feel like the piece
that never quite fits.

To have friends
who never notice your silence,
who never feel the space
your absence leaves behind.

To be present in their lives —
yet only as a backup,
a reserve seat
no one truly hopes to fill.

And if my absence
creates no vacuum,
I find myself wondering
what my presence fills at all.

Sometimes I wonder
how it feels
to be loved by someone
beyond the boundaries of family.

How it feels to receive
instead of always giving.

How it feels
to have a shoulder to lean on —
someone who listens,
someone who cares,
someone who waits,
someone who stays.

Because all my life
I have loved.
I have given.
I have missed.
I have listened.
I have cared.
I have always shown up
when someone needed me.

Yet somehow,
I have never truly known
what it feels like
to stand
on the other side
of that love.

Perhaps that is
the quiet truth of life —

that once
I tasted the sweetness
of belonging,

and now
I know the bitterness
of standing alone.

Both memories
live within me —

one reminding me
how beautiful life can feel,

and the other
teaching me
how strong
a quiet heart
can become.