almost gone, almost me 

i’ve always carried this quiet urge—
to vanish without a trace,
to dissolve into silence,
to become the echo no one remembers.

i’ve imagined the solitude—
a life tucked away where no one searches,
where time forgets my name,
and the world moves on, untouched by my absence.

but i wonder…
is it truly disappearance i crave?
or is it simply an escape—
not from people,
but from the weight i’ve grown tired of carrying?

maybe i don’t want to be gone.
maybe i just want the pain to leave.
maybe it’s not my presence that’s unbearable—
but the heaviness life keeps pressing into it.

maybe what i seek
isn’t distance from others,
but distance from despair.

perhaps i long for stillness,
not abandonment—
for peace, not erasure.

and in this quiet questioning,
i meet myself again—
not as someone who wants to disappear,
but as someone aching to be seen,
without the burden,
without the noise,
without the ache disguised as solitude.