There’s a specific kind of pain that shows up when you let yourself be vulnerable again.
It’s not just missing someone.
And it’s not just the silence.

It’s the combination of both — the tenderness of opening back up, paired with the slow drip of
uncertainty that follows when the response doesn’t come.

Because when someone goes quiet, it’s not the absence that hurts first.
It’s the space it creates for the whispers.

The ones that start soft and reasonable.
Start to get louder.
Then start narrating your worst fears like they’ve been waiting for their cue.

You tell yourself you’re being patient.
You’re being mature.
Don't start to assume.

But limbo has a way of turning vulnerability into a waiting room where nothing gets better the longer you
sit.

And the longer it stretches, the more you feel it — not as drama, or as panic — but as a low-grade ache
that starts to touch your peace.

The Limbo

This is the part people don’t talk about enough.
Not heartbreak.
Not rejection.

But the suspended state where things were good — and then suddenly unclear.
Where you showed up honestly.

You made space.
You communicated.

And instead of meeting you there, the energy shifted sideways.

That’s when the mind starts negotiating with itself.

Did I say too much?
Should I have waited longer?
Maybe they’re just busy.
Am I overthinking?
Maybe I should give it more time.

Not because you don’t trust yourself — but because uncertainty is destabilizing by design.

Silence doesn’t just remove information.
It invites interpretation.

And the longer you’re left interpreting, the more your nervous system tries to protect you by filling in the
gaps.

That’s not insecurity.
That’s your body responding to a lack of safety.

Power, Boundaries, and Not Shrinking
Here’s where the fork in the road appears.
This is usually the moment where people abandon themselves quietly.
They go back, explain again, reword. Then they soften.
They try to make their needs more “digestible.”

Not even because their needs are unreasonable — but because they’re hoping clarity will restore
connection.

But when someone becomes distant after you express yourself, that’s not overwhelm.
That’s discomfort with accountability.

Standing in your power doesn’t require confrontation.
It doesn’t demand ultimatums.
It doesn’t mean you stop caring.

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