I used to think people like me were difficult to love. Maybe that is why I stayed too long in places that only gave me half of what I deserved. I watered dead conversations. I held onto cold hands, hoping warmth would return. I memorized people’s moods the way poets memorize sad songs, thinking if I loved harder, softer, quieter — maybe they would finally stay. But leaving changes a person. Not only the people who walk away, but the ones left behind too. There is a certain kind of silence that follows heartbreak. A heavy silence. The kind that sits beside you at 2 a.m. while the world sleeps peacefully and you are busy replaying memories like old films with broken endings. For a long time, I thought that silence would destroy me. Instead, it introduced me to myself. I started noticing little things. How beautiful the sky looked when I stopped rushing through life. How peaceful music sounded when it was no longer trying to heal a wound. How my heart slowly stopped aching every time my phone stayed quiet.…