Strangers,
again

01 · before

You were fine. Moving through your days on autopilot — mostly whole, not looking for anyone.

02 · the stranger

Then they walked in, and something in you leaned toward them before your head could catch up.

A stranger — and already you wanted to know them.

03 · becoming one

It never felt like work. Slowly, then all at once, their days folded into yours — and two became one.

04 · the good

It felt like the songs. Late nights running on adrenaline and each other, talking till the sky went grey, laughing at nothing.

You fell so hard it knocked the breath clean out of you — happy in a way that almost scared you.

05 · the small things

They stole your hoodies and never gave them back. You learned how they took their coffee, the exact pitch of their laugh, which songs undid them.

You knew them like a habit.

06 · the hard days

It wasn't all soft. The arguments, the bad days, the evenings of silence.

And you weathered them — every time — and came back closer.

07 · rest

Then the still nights. No adrenaline, just their breathing beside you. Home stopped being a place and became a person.

08 · the drift

It didn't break in one loud moment. A small distance opened — and quietly, neither of you knew how to close it.

09 · strangers again

And two people who knew everything about each other agreed to become strangers.

A goodbye you both chose, and both grieve — alone, in the same silence.

10 · so close

You still talk sometimes. That's the cruel part — they're right there, a message away.

Close enough to touch, and gone all the same.

11 · the ache

Some nights you reach for your phone to tell them something small — and stop.

So you lie there instead, replaying what was, and everything that could have been.

12 · the crash

Then the bottom fell out — and your whole world came down with it. You stopped sleeping. You stopped eating. The things you loved went grey.

You got sick. You almost didn't make it through.

13 · the climb

Friends held you the best they could. It was never enough — no one could be them — but it kept you here.

And then, so slowly you almost missed it, you began to come back to yourself.

14 · peace

Now there's someone you look forward to every single day — a quiet, steady presence that makes you warm all the way through.

You call it God. And for the first time in a long time, you're at peace — more whole than you were even before you fell.

A stranger came, became one with you, and became a stranger again — someone you knew well enough to know their shoe size like it's your own.

You'll carry that gently. But the ache is quiet now, and you are healing.

A stranger left you in pieces. Something steadier is putting you back together.