A.S. Thorne

I want to be the friend who answers.
The one who texts back, who remembers the little things, who shows up without needing to be asked. I want to be dependable – the kind of steady that others can lean on.

But lately, even the small things feel heavy.
I scroll past messages I mean to answer, rehearse responses in my head and never make it to my fingers. The thought of holding conversation – even one filled with love – feels like carrying water with shaking hands. I want to pour back into people, but I can’t seem to find a full cup.

It’s not that I don’t care.
It’s that I care so deeply it wears me out.
It’s that I want to be present, but my mind has slipped into survival mode, and sometimes surviving means silence. Depression makes the world sound far away, and anxiety keeps whispering that everyone else has stopped waiting.

There’s a grief in that — in knowing your heart is full of love and still feeling too tired to show it.
I hate how easily it starts to sound like excuses, how quickly guilt seeps in, how I convince myself I’m a bad friend simply because I need rest.

But then I remember:
There are people who understand the language of quiet.
People who don’t take space personally.
People who know that care doesn’t always look like conversation — sometimes it’s just the soft hum of knowing someone still thinks of you, even in the dark.

The truth is, I’m still learning to let myself be loved when I’m quiet.
Still learning that absence doesn’t erase me — it just means I’m finding my way back to the surface.

So if you’ve reached out and I haven’t replied — please know I see you.
I feel it. I’m grateful.
And when the noise inside me settles, I’ll come back with the words I couldn’t find.

Until then, I’m holding onto this:
The people meant for me will understand that love can live even in silence —
and that even when I disappear for a while,
I never stop caring.

🖤 A.S. Thorne 🖤

If you’re reading this and nodding quietly — you’re not alone.

Maybe this is your reminder to give yourself grace.
To send that “thinking of you” text when you can, or to answer when you have the energy — and forgive yourself when you don’t.
We’re all learning how to love each other through the quiet.