“I Learned to Leave Quietly”
I stopped explaining

“I Learned to Leave Quietly”
I stopped explaining
the way my heart breaks—
not because it hurt less,
but because no one stayed long enough
to understand it.
I learned to smile
at the right moments,
to nod when people spoke,
to say “I’m fine”
like it was a language
I was born knowing.
The truth is—
I felt everything too deeply.
Every silence sounded like goodbye,
every distance felt like rejection,
every “maybe”
felt like a slow kind of ending.
So I changed.
Not into someone stronger,
but into someone quieter.
I stopped asking people to stay.
I stopped chasing what was already leaving.
I stopped begging for love
that had to be convinced to exist.
And in that silence,
I found something unexpected—
peace.
Not the kind that feels warm,
but the kind that doesn’t hurt anymore.
Now, when people leave,
I don’t run after them.
I don’t ask why.
I don’t try to fix what was never mine to fix.
I just let them go—
the same way they let go of me.
Quietly.
BY: CINDY JIMENEZ
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