Field Note (Entry Three): Echoes and Almosts

June 2025 — Written on a day when the ache of silence hummed louder than the noise.

Some people remain in your orbit for years — not because you are alike,
but because once, they felt like safety.
Like possibility. Like the first soft “yes” after a long string of no’s.
But over time, the resonance fades. Not out of spite. Just… entropy of the soul.

I’ve been grieving a lot of those connections lately.
Not with drama. Not with declarations.
Just a quiet noticing:
That I no longer want to perform grief for people who never asked how I was coping.
That I no longer want to celebrate puppies with those who’ve never met them.
That I can’t keep stretching to feel close to someone who never really stepped forward — not fully. Not consistently.

And maybe they were never meant to.
Maybe they were bridge souls — not false twins, not enemies, just sacred echoes.
People who reminded me of something I needed to remember before I could fully come home to myself.

I love them still.
But I’m no longer pretending we’re the same kind of creature.

There’s a quiet difference between being seen and being studied. Between being supported and simply tolerated. And I think my soul is done mistaking proximity for presence.

So this is not a severing.

This is a soft exhale.
A loosening of threads that once wrapped too tightly around who I thought I had to be.

I’ll always make space for gentleness. But I’m no longer building my house in the field of almost.

I’m waiting for those who knock on the door —
with full eyes, with both feet,
with souls that remember mine.

— Alex
The threadwalker