In a heart weary of silence, in a corner of the soul accustomed to darkness, a strange feeling awoke.
It was neither pure sorrow, nor complete joy, but a subtle blend of both—a feeling resembling the scent of rain on parched earth after a long absence.
Like a drop of water falling on the surface of a still lake, the ripples slowly spread until I felt that strange feeling had penetrated every part of my being.
I did not know whether this feeling comforted me or exhausted me, but it was alive, pulsating, refusing to be ignored.
It was longing—but a vague longing, without a face or a name, without a specific memory to point to.
It was like a thin thread weaving itself through the corridors of consciousness, gently pulling me toward an unseen past, toward an unknown point in time.
I feel it in the corners of my silence, in sudden pauses during conversations, when my voice fades and I do not know why.
As if suddenly I realize I am not fully here. Something softly draws me toward another dimension, a place in myself I have not visited for years.
Whenever I try to grasp it, it slips from my hands like a morning dream fading with the first sunlight.
It appears in moments of stillness, when the noise of the world around me calms, and the body surrenders to exhaustion.
When everything quiets down, its voice becomes clearer. It does not scream, nor demand—only whispers… and I keep chasing it, though I cannot see it.
It visits me on sleepless nights, when shadows dance on the walls, and when distant sounds reach my ears, indistinguishable.
It is like a faint echo of a laugh I no longer remember, or an old melody resonating deep in memory without me knowing its source.
As if I live in a long corridor, with faded pictures hanging on its walls—no clear faces, only a vague feeling that I was there once, in a life perhaps another.
And with this unknown longing, loneliness began to creep in.
Not the loneliness of social isolation, but the loneliness of the soul—an alienation from a core that once was an inseparable part of me.
Something inside me shattered, but not completely broken. Its shards still glimmered at times, reminding me of what I was, what I could have been if I hadn't forgotten myself all these years.
I felt lost in a maze of emotions, searching for a point of light or a thread to follow out of this fog.
Everything around me seemed dull, colorless, as if life had lost its sparkle I once knew.
Even the sunlight was no longer golden. It turned pale, as if the light itself had lost its enthusiasm.
Even familiar faces seemed strange, and passing conversations no longer touched anything in my soul.
Everything became meaningless, as if I were living in a repeatedly replayed scene, endlessly, without a new script.
Loneliness swelled and slowly transformed into a burning yearning.
A yearning I did not know for whom or why, but it tormented me, tore me from within.
As if I missed someone I have not yet met, or searched for a soul that passed through my life like a breeze leaving only its trace.
I felt as if a part of me had been uprooted, leaving a deep void growing wider with each passing day.
This yearning manifested as a strong desire to return to a past I could no longer clearly remember, to a time when my heart was lighter, and my soul freer.
I longed for my old self, even without being able to define her features precisely. But I felt her—I remembered how life was when I laughed sincerely, when laughter needed no reason.
I started craving that feeling that once filled me with vitality and energy, that made me see the world in vibrant colors.
The longing dwelling inside me was not for a place, but for a state of being—for a self that used to rejoice in the breeze, cry at sunset, and believe that tomorrow held something more beautiful.
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The Revelation
With increasing loneliness and yearning, the pain deepened.
It was not a physical pain, but a profound spiritual ache, sinking its teeth deep into my being.
It was that kind of pain you cannot describe, yet it causes you to collapse silently without tears.
I felt an unbearable heaviness on my chest, as if a great burden was placed upon my soul.
The nights grew longer, the days heavier. I lost my appetite for life, and everything appeared through a black lens.
The things I loved became tiring, the relationships I cared about became exhausting, and the words I wrote no longer found their way onto paper.
I asked myself over and over: What am I missing?
What am I searching for with such eagerness and thirst?
And one night, while drowning in a sea of questions and pain, and my eyes staring into emptiness, something strange happened.
Suddenly, without warning, a flash of clarity emerged.
It was not a visual flash, but a spiritual one, revealing the truth that had been hidden behind the veil of forgetfulness.
As if something inside me said: "Stop searching outside. You are looking in the wrong place."
That moment was like a silent explosion deep within the soul.
Suddenly, I understood. I understood that this longing, this loneliness, this yearning, and this pain, were not directed at another person, or a distant place, or a fully detailed past.
It was not a longing for an external past, but for the former self.
For that soul once full of energy, vitality, and love that I once possessed.
That soul that danced with joy for the smallest reasons, that saw beauty in every corner, that glowed with love for life and others.
That soul that could be spontaneous, laugh from her heart, and cry without shame.
I realized that this soul, this radiant self I used to embrace, had been slowly extinguished over the harsh passing days.
The successive blows of disappointments, betrayals, losses, and tearful moments I endured had gradually dimmed its flame until it nearly went out.
Every tear I shed, every disappointment I felt, was like a drop of water making that flame flicker until it almost vanished.
This revelation was as painful as it was liberating.
I felt a moment of honest confession with myself.
All this time, I was searching for something outside, while all I needed was to search for the "I" I had lost.
That "I" I complained about her absence was the very one I neglected, abandoned, and left to face hardships alone until she became strange to me.
This longing was nothing but her call, a faint scream from my depths, asking me to return to her, to revive her, to give her the love and care she had long been deprived of.
This revelation was a beginning.
The beginning of a new path, the path back to the self, the path to reignite that flame that nearly went out, the path to embrace the "I" I once was and can still become again.