i could survive just fine without you. at least, that’s the refrain we’ve all learned to repeat when the weight of absence settles in our chests. “just fine” becomes a shield, a soft, unyielding armour that we drape over our shattered hopes and unspoken disappointments. it is a phrase that, in its simplicity, manages to both comfort and betray us. for while it suggests a quiet dignity, it also admits, in hushed syllables, that life goes on despite the gaping void left in its wake.

we find ourselves in a world built on connections, threads that bind us to one another in delicate, often inexplicable ways. in our laughter, in our tears, in the silent hum of everyday moments, we are woven into an intricate tapestry of shared experiences. it is this interlacing of souls that gives life its brilliant hues, its unpredictable rhythms, its moments of unguarded clarity. and yet, when one of those threads unravels, when a presence fades into memory, we are left to navigate the labyrinth of loss, questioning whether our very essence is meant to exist in the quiet echo of absence.

you see, when someone becomes a part of our days, when they join our sacred dance of vulnerability and trust, they leave an indelible mark on our being. we are no longer alone; our stories, our hopes, and our fears intertwine. and when that person departs, the silence they leave behind speaks louder than any farewell. it whispers of shared mornings that will never again unfold, of conversations halted mid-sentence, of laughter that now lingers as a bittersweet memory.

this is not merely about survival, it is about the unvarnished truth that being without someone is to live with a constant, pulsating void, a quiet ache that resounds in every heartbeat.

we are taught to be resilient, to gather ourselves in the face of loss, to march forward with a semblance of normalcy. we tell ourselves and each other that we can manage, that we will be “just fine.” but beneath that bravado lies a tender reckoning: the truth that to let go is to allow life to metamorphose in ways we may never have predicted.

and that truth is as liberating as it is painful. for in each act of letting go, there is a quiet, relentless beauty, a transformation that whispers of growth, of the perpetual cycle of becoming.

i have seen how love, in its myriad forms, can both uplift and unmoor us. we choose to reach out, to hold on, not only because we hope to be saved but because we crave the raw, unfiltered connection that only another human being can bring. there is a part of us that is forever yearning for that kind of presence, a part that believes in the tender alchemy of shared existence. even when the inevitable happens, and people go their separate ways, whether by choice or by the cruel whims of fate, we find ourselves clinging to remnants of what once was. that desire to be seen, to be heard, to be truly known is etched into our souls.

there are moments when the silence becomes too loud, when every corner of a room echoes with reminders of what has been lost. it is in these moments that the fragility of our existence becomes palpable. the absence of a loved one leaves behind a lingering presence, a ghost of intimacy, a spectre of what might have been. and yet, this void is not solely a place of despair; it is also the fertile ground upon which new beginnings can emerge. for in the act of embracing loss, we begin to understand that survival is not the same as thriving. to truly live is to embrace the totality of our experiences, even when they are tinged with sorrow.

i remember a passage by rainer maria rilke that once resonated with me deeply:

“let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. just keep going. no feeling is final.”

these words, though simple, contain an astonishing depth of wisdom. they remind us that every emotion, no matter how overwhelming, is transient, a part of the ceaseless ebb and flow of life. in these moments of profound loss, we are invited to surrender to the full spectrum of our humanity: to feel, to weep, to grieve, and ultimately, to carry on. this is not a call to resign ourselves to perpetual loneliness, but an invitation to honour every facet of our being, even those we would rather forget.

there is a paradox at the heart of human connection: the very act of loving someone demands vulnerability, and in that vulnerability lies the risk of loss.

we open ourselves to others, allowing them to see our innermost selves, and in doing so, we expose ourselves to the possibility of being abandoned, misunderstood, or left behind. and yet, despite the risk, we choose love time and again. we choose to believe that the warmth of a shared smile or the solace of a gentle word is worth the inevitable pain when that light dims.

it is a choice that speaks to the inherent courage of the human spirit, a defiant act of hope in a world that often seems intent on proving us otherwise.

you might ask, is it possible to let go without losing a part of oneself? the answer is both simple and complex. letting go does not mean erasing the memories or diminishing the significance of what has been shared. rather, it is an act of honouring the past while allowing yourself the freedom to grow anew. it is a recognition that while we hold dear the connections that have shaped us, we must also find the strength to move forward, to become individuals who are complete in our own right.

in love and in loss, we are forced to confront the delicate balance between dependency and independence, between the comfort of familiar bonds and the exhilarating, sometimes frightening, pursuit of our own becoming.

many of us have known the pain of watching a friendship drift into silence, the slow fade of someone who once filled our lives with meaning. there are moments when we try to convince ourselves that we are better off, that the absence of that person allows us the space to rediscover who we are. and yet, there is always a part of us that clings to the hope that perhaps, someday, the distance will lessen, and the ties that bound us will be reknit in a different form.

but sometimes, the truth is that letting go is not about abandoning hope; it is about accepting that some connections are meant to be transient chapters in an ever-unfolding story.

i have watched as people i cared for deeply continued their journeys, and as i continued mine. we all leave marks on each other, subtle brushstrokes on the canvas of our lives. and while those marks may fade with time, they never truly vanish. even when the person is no longer physically present, their influence endures, a quiet murmur in the back of your mind, a feeling of warmth during the coldest of nights.

in this way, the absence becomes a part of you, woven into the fabric of who you are.

yet, for all its quiet persistence, the memory of what once was can leave you feeling unmoored. it is as if you are navigating the vast sea of life with a constant, almost imperceptible pull towards what has been lost. the old comforts, the shared dreams, the effortless synchrony that once defined your days, all become a bittersweet reminder of the beauty and agony of connection. and in that struggle, there is a kind of profound grace. the ability to acknowledge, with a tremulous kind of honesty, that the pain of absence is the price we pay for having loved so deeply.

in this relentless tide of connection and loss, i have come to learn that survival is a process, not a destination.

it is an ongoing journey marked by moments of despair and revelation, of retreat and bold, tentative steps forward. each scar is a testimony to a love that once burned bright, each quiet tear a tribute to the vulnerability that made us human. and in this process, we find an unexpected beauty, a delicate, unspoken artistry in the way hearts heal.

kahlil gibran, in his timeless wisdom, once wrote:

“ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

this sentiment, hanging in the space between shared laughter and solitary reflection, encapsulates the paradox of our existence. the depth of our love is measured not by how long it lasts but by how profoundly it touches the very core of who we are. and though the departures leave us with an aching void, they also reveal the fullness of our capacity to connect.

here is a quiet sanctity in acknowledging both the beauty and the brutality of letting go. it is in the moments when you stand at the precipice of what once was and face the unknown of what lies ahead that you begin to understand the true meaning of freedom. freedom, not as a state of being unburdened by pain, but as the courage to embrace life in its entirety, the joy intertwined with sorrow, the warmth shadowed by loneliness, the light emerging from the darkest of places.

we are, after all, a collection of contradictions, a mosaic of memories, desires, and fleeting moments that defy a neat summary.

and perhaps that is what makes us so exquisitely human. the capacity to hold joy and grief in the same trembling hands, to love despite knowing that every connection carries the risk of loss, is a testament to the indomitable spirit that resides within us. in every goodbye, in every empty space where someone once stood, there exists the promise of a new beginning, a chance to redefine ourselves, to shape our own destiny, even in the absence of those who once moulded us.

maybe one day, in the quiet solitude of an ordinary afternoon, you will find that the absence no longer stings quite as sharply. the memories, both tender and painful, will settle into the background, like old photographs that capture moments of beauty and imperfection. you might look at them with a sense of wistful gratitude, knowing that to have loved so deeply was to have truly lived.

and perhaps that is the ultimate act of courage, to let go, to accept that the heart is meant to be both fragile and fiercely resilient.

it is not that we are unwilling to be vulnerable; rather, we are often overwhelmed by the realisation that every opening we leave for another is also an invitation to potential sorrow. yet, despite this inevitability, we persist. we continue to extend our hands to allow others into the intimate chambers of our hearts because the alternative, closing ourselves off entirely, is a fate far more desolate. in our shared laughter and whispered confessions, in moments of unguarded tenderness and even in the quiet grief of absence, we find the very essence of what it means to be alive.

there is a universality in this experience that binds us together, transcending the particulars of who we are or whom we have loved. it is in the silent understanding that every goodbye carries with it both an ending and a beginning.

and as each chapter closes, we are gently reminded that our story is still in the process of being written, a work of art crafted in the space between holding on and letting go.

so, as i stand amidst the ruins of what once was and the fragile buds of what might be, i choose to embrace this paradox. i allow myself the tenderness to mourn the loss, while also welcoming the quiet possibility of renewal. i choose to believe that while i could survive just fine without you, the truth of my existence is enriched by the connections i have forged along the way. and every scar, every bittersweet memory, becomes a stanza in the poetic narrative of my life, a narrative filled with both the ache of absence and the promise of hope.

in this journey of survival and renewal, we learn to redefine what it means to live. we learn that true living is not measured by the absence of pain or the absence of loss, but by our ability to transform each heartbreak into a quiet strength, to convert every farewell into a lesson in resilience.

it is the acceptance that while people may leave, the love they inspire continues to illuminate even the darkest corridors of our being.

let us celebrate our capacity for connection even as we acknowledge its impermanence. let us honour the whispers of those who have departed by carrying their echoes within us, transforming the fleeting nature of their presence into a perennial source of inspiration and grace. for in each moment of letting go, in every soft resignation of what once was, there is an unspoken promise: that the heart, though bruised and tender, is also endlessly capable of tenderness, of healing, of renewal.

and so, we continue forward, with memories in our pockets, with scars as souvenirs of our most intimate meetings, and with the belief that every connection, no matter how brief, adds a verse to the ongoing, beautiful, tragic poem of our lives.

we may survive, yes, but in the process, we learn to live. we learn that the interplay of light and shadow, of holding on and letting go, is what makes us truly human.

in the quiet aftermath of goodbye, when the echoes of shared laughter fade into the silence of our thoughts, we discover that our capacity to love is inexhaustible. we learn that even if we must be “just fine” without someone, that adequacy is not the end of our longing; it is a prelude to something deeper. it is a testament to our ability to endure, to grow, to transform.

and in that transformation, we become more than just survivors. we become poets of our own fragile, luminous lives, always reaching, always daring to hope, always daring to love again.

so, while i may say that i could survive just fine without you, i also confess that your absence has carved a space within me that will forever remind me of the beauty of connection. and perhaps, one day, when the seasons of my life have shifted enough for the edges of sorrow to soften, i will look back and see that every moment of loss was also a moment of profound, exquisite becoming.

we are, after all, a patchwork of every person we have ever loved and lost, a living, breathing testament to our collective journey of hope, vulnerability, and resilience.

and it is in that shared human experience that we find our true strength, not in the emptiness left behind, but in the courage to keep writing our story, one tender, imperfect, fiercely beautiful line at a time.

note:

this is the first essay we’ve worked on, and perhaps the one into which we poured everything. it’s an intimate portrait of what it means to be human, and how we so often move through life believing that survival is enough. but is it, really?

as always, if you’ve made it all the way here, we’re deeply grateful. it’s not easy to stay with something this long. we don’t consider ourselves writers, these are simply our thoughts, the way we see the world, and the way we’ve come to understand ourselves.

if any part of this reached you, stayed with you, or helped you feel a little less alone, we’ll take that as a quiet victory. thank you for reading. much love.