Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
To: DeadStrings
Subject: The awkward silence?
Sorry about the awkward silence. It wasn’t intentional, just had to make some calls.
So, let’s discuss “Black.”
You mentioned the song, and it’s been playing on a loop in my head ever since. Not just the melody—but the ache behind every lyric.
That slow, unraveling grief feels like it’s crawling beneath your skin, dragging old memories to the surface—memories you believed were buried under layers of years, denial, and distraction.
It’s not just heartbreak—it’s an absence that carves into you, that lodges in your throat, pulses in your teeth, and settles in the soles of your feet like a bruise you keep stepping on.
It becomes a quiet, aching hunger to feel what you once had again—just for a moment—even if reaching for it means tearing yourself apart all over again.
And the way Eddie sings, hoping she’ll have a beautiful life, as if he’s okay, she’ll be a star in somebody else’s sky . . .
That line—it feels like the moment you let go, but your hands still shake from holding on too long. From still loving, but knowing you can’t get her back.
I wonder if that’s how you felt.
I wonder if she was your sky.
If you still watch her shine from a distance and tell yourself that you’re okay with being the darkness behind it.
I wonder how long a love like that stays hidden beneath your skin—woven into your breath, settled in your bones, refusing to let go no matter how far you run. Does it live in your soul not as pain, but as a tune that hums beneath everything you do, even when you swear you’ve moved on?
And maybe I’m asking too much.
Maybe I should just let this be what it is—anonymous confessions in a quiet little corner of the internet where everything hurts less when we type instead of speaking out truths to those we’re supposed to trust in real life. Not that this isn’t real, but . . . somehow, it’s different.
But your words feel . . . they broke my heart a little. Then add “Black,” which is not a song you pick casually. It’s the one you choose when you’re bleeding somewhere no one else can see.
So, no pressure to reply quickly or even respond at all. I just wanted you to know that the silence wasn’t because I didn’t care.