I miss being known in the middle of things, not just in summary

Dear Delyara, There is a kind of intimacy that lives in the middle. Not in introductions. Not in headlines. In the middle. Knowing how a person sounds when they’re not fully okay but still trying to pass as fine. Knowing which silences mean distance and which mean exhaustion. Knowing which small phrases carry larger weather behind them. I miss being known there. I think that’s why some days feel lonely even with people in them. Because the outline is not enough.