MIA

I went MIA,
not because I stopped caring,
but because caring started costing me
pieces of myself
I couldn't afford to lose.

So I stopped answering every call.
Stopped explaining every silence.
Stopped showing up
just because somebody expected me to.

No announcement.
No goodbye.
No dramatic exit.

Just gone.

Somewhere between
being everybody's shoulder
and having nobody to lean on,
I realized
I had forgotten what my own voice sounded like.

So I disappeared
into quiet places.

Turned my phone face down.
Let the messages pile up.
Let people wonder.

Maybe they'll call it distant.
Maybe they'll call it selfish.
Maybe they'll say
I changed.

They're right.

I did.

I got tired of being available
for people who were only present
when they needed something.

Tired of conversations
where I had to shrink my truth
to keep somebody else comfortable.

Tired of giving explanations
to people who had already decided
to misunderstand me.

So I went MIA.

Not missing.

Just missing
from places that kept making me
feel like I had to disappear
to be accepted.

I needed somewhere
my thoughts could breathe.

Somewhere silence
wasn't punishment.

Somewhere being alone
didn't mean being lonely.

I needed to remember
that my life belongs to me
even when nobody is watching.

So if you haven't heard from me,
don't assume the worst.

Maybe I'm healing
in ways that don't make noise.

Maybe I'm learning
that peace doesn't always arrive
with an invitation.

Maybe I'm rebuilding
without letting the world
watch me put every piece back.

And when I return,
I won't owe anybody
an explanation for the silence.

I'll simply walk back in
with clearer eyes,
a quieter mind,
and a heart that finally understands:

Sometimes going MIA
isn't running away.

Sometimes
it's stepping away long enough
to find the person
you were becoming
before everybody else
told you who to be.