Maulenov

After a lie,
every truth feels like a gamble.
Like trying to drink from a broken glass—
you know it might cut you,
but you're still thirsty for honesty.

So ask me why it’s so hard to trust.
Ask me why “I promise”
sounds like noise now,
why I reread old conversations,
why I stay quiet in rooms
where I once felt safe.

I learned to heal
without pretending I was fine,
without forcing a laugh
to fill the silence.
I sat with the emptiness,
let the loneliness breathe,
and realized being alone
is better than feeling alone
around people who don’t care.

Because when I needed them most,
they left.
When my hands shook,
when my voice cracked,
when I had nothing to give—
they disappeared.
And I will never forget
what it felt like
to type a long message
and delete it
because I already knew the reply
would be short.

I will never forget
what it felt like
to sit in a crowded room
but feel invisible.
To be there for everyone
and watch no one
show up for me.

But that’s how it goes.
They don’t notice when you stop texting first.
They don’t wonder why you’re quieter now.
They don’t miss you—
until they need something.
Until they realize the energy feels different,
until they scroll past your name
and hesitate before reaching out.

And by then,
you've already learned
how to live without them.

From The dead pen