I once thought

peace was something you found...

like loose change in old jeans,

or a message you forgot to reply.

I thought it lived

in your voice,

in the way you said my name

like it meant something permanent.

I built temples out of moments,

worshipped memories that were already leaving,

held onto laughter

long after it stopped echoing.

But then..

something cracked.

Not loudly.

Not enough for the world to notice.

Just enough

for me to feel it

in the quiet.

And suddenly,

everything we were

fell into pieces.

Not shattered..

no, that would’ve been easier.

Just… scattered.

Like a puzzle

with no picture on the box.

I tried to gather them.

God, I tried.

Picked up your promises...

they cut deeper than I expected.

Held onto your words...

they changed shape in my hands.

Even your silence

had weight to it.

And still…

something didn’t fit.

So I sat there,

surrounded by what used to be us,

and asked myself...

what if peace was never in you?

What if

I mistook attachment for meaning,

confusion for connection,

and distance for depth?

What if

the most valuable thing I gave you

wasn’t my time…

or my patience…

but my ability

to lose myself?

And when I finally took it back..

you didn’t break.

You… disappeared.

Like you were never whole

to begin with.

And that’s when it hit me...

peace isn’t something you find

in people who make you question your worth.

It’s something you rebuild

from the ruins

they leave behind.

Piece by piece.

Not the pretty pieces...

no one talks about those.

I mean the ugly ones:

the nights you almost text them,

the mornings you pretend you’re okay,

the songs you skip

because they remember too much.

Those pieces.

The ones that don’t look like healing

until one day…

they do.

And just when you think

you’ve gathered enough

to finally feel whole again..

another piece appears.

A memory.

A “what if.”

A version of you

that almost stayed.

And you hesitate.

Because part of you wonders...

should I keep this one?

Or is this the piece

that breaks everything again?

…

I still don’t have the answer.

But I know this:

peace isn’t perfect.

It’s not silent.

It doesn’t come all at once.

It’s messy.

Incomplete.

And sometimes...

it looks a lot like letting go

of the last piece

you swore you needed.

So if you see me smiling now,

just know...

it’s not because I found peace.

It’s because

I’m finally learning

which pieces

to leave behind.