There is a kind of silence no one warns you about.
It is not the dramatic kind; it is the type that comes after heartbreak or loss, when people expect you to be off-grid and eating biscuits in bed for three days straight. No, this silence creeps in slowly. Like when your playlist feels tired. Your shows feel silly. And even WhatsApp messages feel like a lot of work.
Nothing is wrong, technically. But also, nothing is right.
You wake up, do what you are supposed to do, answer emails, take vitamins (sometimes), reply “lol” to things that are not funny, and watch the kettle boil like it is a form of therapy. There is no major crisis. Just a very consistent, very boring kind of emptiness.
And it is not even depression. Let us not be dramatic. It is just... a weird flavour of “nothing.”
At first, you try to fix it. You buy scented candles. You reorganise your wardrobe. You message people you do not even like that much, just to feel something. You think maybe it is your phone, or your environment, or your hairstyle. Maybe you need to rewatch Inception. Or move to Nairobi.
But after all the tiny distractions wear off, the silence remains. Persistent. Gentle. Kind of smug, if we are being honest.
Now here is the twist no one tells you: sometimes, this silence is not a problem. Sometimes, it is just life, pausing. Not because it is broken. But because it is adjusting the stage lights.
You are not always meant to feel on fire. And you are not always meant to understand what is going on. Some days, the job is to show up. Brush your teeth. Eat a mango. Look outside the window for no reason at all.
And maybe, just maybe, the stillness is doing more for you than you think.
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