When those nights came and I couldn’t sleep, you lay there quietly, undisturbed, at peace. I stared at the ceiling, trembling at the thought of life without you—not lying next to you, not kissing you, not loving you. I couldn’t sleep with a heavy heart and a conscience weighed down by an unsaid, quiet prayer.
No, sir, you’re not the only one to blame. My hands aren’t clean either—I’ve said and done things that hurt you too. But when is enough, enough? Enough pain, hurt, and loneliness? Does it end when you’re sleeping in someone else’s bed—or when I finally walk out the door?
These thoughts stay hidden because it’s easier to drown in them than to speak and be shut down. The world knows more of my inner thoughts than you do, because you’re afraid—afraid to see the pain you cause, afraid to acknowledge, understand, or care.
These words might scare you. But in the same breath, you inspire me to do what I love. It’s a double-edged sword.
Crazy, isn’t it? I can’t even think, because everything I think feels wrong, unimportant, not good enough. So why speak? Why try to have a conversation, when everything I say feels dumb, stupid—never enough for you?
So here I am—caught between loving you and losing myself. I don’t know how to be heard without breaking, how to stay without disappearing. But I do know this: I can’t keep whispering my truth into silence, hoping you’ll suddenly hear me.
Maybe one day you’ll look back and realize it wasn’t just pain I carried—it was hope too. Hope that you’d see me. Hear me. Fight for me.
But until then, I’ll keep trying to heal in the quiet, even if it means walking away from the noise.
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As It Comes....I Will Remain ... Schanntel 
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