" For the ones who never got a goodbye — just distance and silence where love used to be. "
Someone asked me
Someone asked, why the final act of love is letting go?
They asked — the reason I didn’t know.
They asked, and my brain 🧠 wanted to grow.
They asked, and my heart recalled when it couldn't let go.
To answer it, I thought.
I thought and reached the plot.
Sure, letting go is the final stop —
But your original plan, did you so easily forgot?
You wanted them to stay.
They want to — you wanted them to say.
Every price — you were ready to pay,
Even when it all started
with just a “hey.”
I recalled my journey and realised,
maybe for them, I was not worth the sacrifice.
Letting go was the final price —
because it's better than the cold ice.
So to answer the question — I replied:
While letting go, we all hide.
We hide the pain inside,
the thoughts in our mind,
all the love we’d ever find.
We let them go, even when our hearts grind.
Writer's Note
Someone asked me
I read a question somewhere and it just... stuck.
“Why is letting go the final act of love?”
And honestly? I didn’t know how to answer it at first.
But it kept sitting in my head.
I wasn’t planning to write anything, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like something I had to pour out — not explain.
This piece isn’t a definition. It’s my attempt to figure it out — for myself.
Because letting go doesn’t always come with peace or clarity.
Sometimes, it comes with nothing but silence and the ache of what could’ve been.
That question made me feel everything I had buried.
So I wrote.
And this is what came out.