Growing distant is not necessarily proof of dislike | On a night when light leaked from the edge of the curtain

When I received those words in the counseling room, something deep inside my ears quietly came to a stop.

Disliked.
That interpretation comes out so naturally.

Drifting apart and rejection are kept in the same drawer.

I had a similar period myself.

There was a time when I gradually created space from a certain relationship.

It wasn't that I had come to dislike them.

I felt that the closer I was, the more I would hurt the other person without realizing it.
Fatigue seeped into the edges of my words, and I was afraid of that, so I took a step back.

But later, I didn't even understand it myself.

Was that an escape?
Was it coldness?

At night, I sometimes draw the curtains in my room.

When there is too much light, and I want to narrow it down to the amount I can handle right now.

At that moment, I noticed a thin sliver of light leaking from the edge.

It wasn't completely closed.

I thought that was fine.

Curtains are not there to block out the outside, but
to quietly adjust the amount of light that suits me tonight.
Even if it leaked from the edge, it was still fulfilling its role properly.

The distance between people might be somewhat similar.

Stopping contact is not necessarily proof that you have come to dislike someone.

Sometimes you keep your mouth shut because you have too many words.
Sometimes you take a step back because you feel that the closer you get, the more you will hurt them.

Silence can be a time spent quietly searching for the distance you can handle right now.

In the counseling room, I listened to a little more of the story.

That person was still worried about the one who had stopped contacting them.
They weren't angry; they were worried.

Someone who is capable of worrying is afraid of being disliked.
Even within that silence, something remained.

What kind of nights the person who drifted away spent cannot be seen from the outside.
Only the person who drew the curtain knows what is on the other side.

It wasn't completely closed.

Light was leaking from the edge.

I still don't know if the night I chose to walk away was a cold decision.

I only know that light kept streaming in from beyond that curtain.

Yuki's

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