Dear friend,

It has been a long, dark while. The days merged into the nights and time felt slower, almost suspended. But it has been over 200 days since I last wrote to you, so clearly time did not slow down at all. It did not wait for me to gather myself before bringing me back here. I have been trying to gather myself, but there are so many scattered pieces that refuse to settle into place.

I kept saying I would write when the cloud cleared. How naive of me. In waiting for clear skies, I missed what the rain might have offered. The strange lightness a storm can bring. The kind of understanding only you seem to give. I thought it would be harmless to miss a few weeks without losing this part of me.

I was wrong.

I missed being the quiet voice in your head. Somewhere along the way, I realised how intertwined we are. I ground you, and you remind me that I am not alone.

Still, it is good to be back. I hope to stay for a while this time. But what I really want to ask is this: How are you?

Yes, I know the question is rhetorical. But pause with it anyway. Reflect a little. You have probably been asked that a thousand times since I was last here. I am hoping for a different kind of answer. The kind only moments like this can uncover.

I cannot hear what you would say, but I can tell you mine. However it has been for you, I am still grateful you are here.

Survival drained me. I lost my ability to see color. I moved through moments without inhabiting them because they felt too heavy to hold. I was always tired. Always anxious. I thought stepping away from my passion would ease the pressure. Instead, the silence grew louder.

Each time I tried to write, I ended up crying instead, as if tears could evaporate into words and somehow reach you. They never did. They only carried me further away.

I will not say it is all over or that I am completely myself again. A lot has changed. I am learning not to cling to a version of me who only writes from confidence and clarity. Sometimes writing will have to meet me in uncertainty too.

I used to believe nothing could separate me from my love for this. That the harder life became, the easier it would be to tell you about it. I know now that passion can quiet itself when survival takes the front seat. It is not a weakness. It is not betrayal. It is simply human.

So welcome. And welcome back. Here’s to figuring things out, even with missing parts and constant change tugging at us. You are here. I am here. That is enough to begin again.

Keep holding on, friend.

Song of the moment – Qhubeka (Keep on holding on) by Zwothe Keys.

Till next time❤️