You will see the stars only on the dimmest of the nights, when the lights are turned off, and you’re far away from the crowds.
Maybe that’s what I want to become too.
Not someone who needs to be seen by everyone. Not someone who constantly explains where they are, what they’re doing, or what they’re feeling. Just someone who exists silently, a little distant from the noise, visible enough to be remembered but never close enough to be touched.
Like the stars.
You can look at them for hours, admire them, wonder about them, even feel something when you see them, but here’s the thing: you can never reach out and touch them. They don’t come closer just because you want them to. They don’t chase your attention. They simply stay where they are and shine bright as ever.
And maybe that’s what The Abyss feels like to me too. There’s something beautiful about being far away, somewhere between being present and unreachable. You can feel deeply without showing everything. You can love without losing yourself. You can care without constantly making yourself available.
I think I want to learn that kind of distance.
Not the cold kind. Not disappearing because I’m hurt or upset. But the kind that comes from finally knowing that not everyone deserves access to every part of you.
Let people wonder.
You don’t have to explain every silence. You don’t have to tell everyone your plans. You don’t have to announce every change you’re making. Some things can grow with you without letting others know.
Become a little harder to read. Keep some dreams to yourself. Walk away from conversations that drain you. Stop trying to convince people of your worth. Let your absence speak when your presence has been taken for granted.
Be kind, but not endlessly available.
Be warm, but keep a private world inside yourself.
Be visible, but untouchable.
And most importantly, don’t become distant because you want people to chase you. Become distant because you finally stopped chasing them.
The stars don’t disappear because nobody is looking.
They’re still there.
Glowing and shining as always.
And maybe one day, when the lights go out and everything becomes silent again, someone will look up and realize you were shining there all along.
This was written by our co-founder, Atia Sanjida.
Image Source: Unsplash, Isi Parente
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