nandini00
Favoured Frenzy
There are two people standing in the same room,
both aching to be heard,
both wondering how someone once so close
can feel so far away.
And maybe that is how distance begins.
Not with one terrible moment.
Not with a slammed door
or a final goodbye.
But quietly.
In conversations where
“I’m hurting”
meets
“but so am I.”
Where every wound reaches for a voice,
and neither person has enough silence left
to hear the other.
Because when you have spent so long
feeling unseen,
it becomes difficult to look beyond
your own loneliness.
When you are starving to be understood,
their pain can begin to sound
like another accusation.
So you explain yourself harder.
They defend themselves louder.
You point toward everything they have done
that made you feel forgotten,
and they point toward everything you have done
that made them feel the same.
And somewhere inside all that explaining,
you stop reaching for each other
and start reaching only
to prove that your hurt matters.
Not because you stopped loving them.
Not because you stopped wanting to understand.
But because it is difficult
to pour tenderness into someone else’s wounds
when your own are still bleeding.
And that is the cruelest part.
Two people can desperately want
the same thing
and still move in opposite directions.
Both wanting closeness.
Both wanting reassurance.
Both wanting someone to finally say,
I see what this has done to you.
Yet neither knows how to offer those words
while waiting so desperately
to hear them first.
So conversations that once carried hope
begin carrying weapons.
Old mistakes are pulled from their graves.
Every disappointment receives a name.
Every silence becomes evidence.
Every unmet need becomes another brick
in a wall neither person meant to build.
Until one day
you look across at someone
who once felt close enough to touch
and realize there are miles between you.
Miles made from things unsaid.
Things said too harshly.
Apologies that never came.
Needs that went unnoticed.
Moments when both of you were asking
to be held
while neither had the strength
to open their arms.
And maybe the hardest part
is not knowing how to walk back.
Because someone has to take the first step
without knowing whether the other will follow.
Someone has to put down the need
to be right long enough to say,
I know I am hurting,
but I know you are hurting too.
Someone has to stop measuring
whose loneliness weighs more.
Because maybe finding each other again
doesn’t begin with solving everything.
Maybe it begins
with finally sitting in the distance together
and admitting,
I don’t want us to keep becoming strangers.
I may not completely understand your pain yet,
and you may not completely understand mine,
but I still want to try.
Because sometimes love isn’t gone.
Sometimes it is simply standing
on opposite sides of a widening space,
waiting for someone
to build the first bridge.
both aching to be heard,
both wondering how someone once so close
can feel so far away.
And maybe that is how distance begins.
Not with one terrible moment.
Not with a slammed door
or a final goodbye.
But quietly.
In conversations where
“I’m hurting”
meets
“but so am I.”
Where every wound reaches for a voice,
and neither person has enough silence left
to hear the other.
Because when you have spent so long
feeling unseen,
it becomes difficult to look beyond
your own loneliness.
When you are starving to be understood,
their pain can begin to sound
like another accusation.
So you explain yourself harder.
They defend themselves louder.
You point toward everything they have done
that made you feel forgotten,
and they point toward everything you have done
that made them feel the same.
And somewhere inside all that explaining,
you stop reaching for each other
and start reaching only
to prove that your hurt matters.
Not because you stopped loving them.
Not because you stopped wanting to understand.
But because it is difficult
to pour tenderness into someone else’s wounds
when your own are still bleeding.
And that is the cruelest part.
Two people can desperately want
the same thing
and still move in opposite directions.
Both wanting closeness.
Both wanting reassurance.
Both wanting someone to finally say,
I see what this has done to you.
Yet neither knows how to offer those words
while waiting so desperately
to hear them first.
So conversations that once carried hope
begin carrying weapons.
Old mistakes are pulled from their graves.
Every disappointment receives a name.
Every silence becomes evidence.
Every unmet need becomes another brick
in a wall neither person meant to build.
Until one day
you look across at someone
who once felt close enough to touch
and realize there are miles between you.
Miles made from things unsaid.
Things said too harshly.
Apologies that never came.
Needs that went unnoticed.
Moments when both of you were asking
to be held
while neither had the strength
to open their arms.
And maybe the hardest part
is not knowing how to walk back.
Because someone has to take the first step
without knowing whether the other will follow.
Someone has to put down the need
to be right long enough to say,
I know I am hurting,
but I know you are hurting too.
Someone has to stop measuring
whose loneliness weighs more.
Because maybe finding each other again
doesn’t begin with solving everything.
Maybe it begins
with finally sitting in the distance together
and admitting,
I don’t want us to keep becoming strangers.
I may not completely understand your pain yet,
and you may not completely understand mine,
but I still want to try.
Because sometimes love isn’t gone.
Sometimes it is simply standing
on opposite sides of a widening space,
waiting for someone
to build the first bridge.
