There’s a kind of silence that isn’t peace—it’s survival.
You stop replying. You don’t explain. You retreat because staying present hurts more than disappearing.
You didn’t mean to become distant.
But every time you opened up, it felt like no one was really listening. So you stopped. You started choosing quiet over connection. It was easier to feel alone on your own terms than to keep feeling unseen in someone else’s company.
Sometimes boundaries look like distance.
You’re not being cold—you’re conserving. Your energy, your softness, your ability to stay kind when you’re already running on empty. Pulling away doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. It just means you’ve started caring for yourself, finally.
They may not notice the shift.
Or they might call you distant, moody, changed. But what they won’t say is how often you showed up even when you were breaking. What they won’t understand is how much effort it took to seem “okay.”
This isn’t giving up—it’s recalibrating.
You’re learning how to exist without bending. You’re relearning what kind of closeness doesn’t cost you peace. And when you’re ready to reach out again—it’ll be on steadier ground.
Have you felt this too?
You’re not the only one quietly rebuilding your capacity for connection.
The Unspoken Mind 