Is It Casual Now?

There’s a line that sits between us—a hesitation that hangs in the air. Let my silence speak. It’s awkward, yes, but it’s real. Why should I feel bad for you when the hurt is mine to carry? I can see where you’re coming from, but the choice was yours.

If the words were empty, why let them out? If you didn’t mean it, why not say so? Just don’t say it at all, or let me know it was never meant to hold weight.

But now, I find myself asking—is this what we’ve come to? Has it all become casual, something to brush off like it was nothing? Letting things go because it’s easier than facing the truth? 

If that’s the case, then maybe that line I drew wasn’t just a pause. Maybe it was a boundary, a way to protect what’s left of something real. Something that matters. Because once it’s all casual, what’s left but empty gestures and hollow promises? 

I wonder if this is how it starts—when words lose their weight and actions feel more like habits than choices. When we start ignoring the small things, thinking they don’t matter, until suddenly they do. Until they pile up, like clothes for laundry, easy to overlook until they’re all you can see.

I don't have many clothes. I wash mine every week. Laundry is work. Love is work, I say this again.

Is this what casual means? A drift into indifference. Slow yet it aches till I feel it in my bones. The cracks pattern me and I know its all the things we let slip away. Maybe that’s why I drew that line—to remind myself that not everything should be so easily let go, that some things deserve to be held onto, even if it’s hard.

Because once you start treating it all as casual, what’s left? A life made of passing moments, where nothing sticks and nothing stays. Maybe that’s why I hesitated—because I’m not ready to let it all slip away. Not yet.