What made me trust you was the way you stood in the doorway longer than you needed to. The way you asked questions and then actually waited for the answers. The way you pretended your job stopped at medicine, even though we both knew it didn’t.
You feel things deeply.
You just don’t think anyone notices.
My grip tightens on the page.
I noticed.
I noticed the way you went quiet when I talked about Diane. I noticed the way your eyes changed when Melissa walked into the room. I noticed how carefully you kept your distance from anything that might remind you that you’re human first and a doctor second.
That kind of control doesn’t come from confidence.
Itcomes from fear.
I swallow hard.
I see myself in you.
Once upon a time, I was you.
I believed loving people was a liability. I told myself I was better alone. Clearer. More focused. Less distracted by things that couldn’t be fixed.
I convinced myself grief was something you outsmarted. Something you managed.
I buried it under work. Under routine. Under rules I made for myself and called discipline.
I called distance professionalism.
I called silence strength.
I was wrong.
My chest aches, a dull pressure spreading behind my ribs.
I lost someone young. Too young.
I won’t bore you with details. You already know how that story goes. One day, your life makes sense, and the next, it doesn’t. One day, you’re planning a future, and the next, you’re learning how to breathe through loss.
I told myself that if I never loved like that again, I’d never hurt like that again.
What I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t avoiding pain.
I was choosing a quieter version of it.
I close my eyes briefly, the words sinking in.
Grief doesn’t disappear when you lock it away. It waits.
It waits in empty rooms. In long nights. In moments that should feel full and don’t.
It waits until you convince yourself you’re fine and then reminds you that you’re not.
I thought I was protecting myself.
All I did was starve myself of the very thing that makes this life bearable.
My fingers curl into the paper, creasing it slightly.
