Where Mia Went

I sometimes wonder what Mia thought in the last moment before she disappeared.

No phone.

No messages.

No contact.

Just gone.

Like someone erased her name from the air.

We were good friends.

Not the kind that talked every day.

But the kind that understood each other without pretending.

Something inside Mia was always different.

She used to say,

“I don’t want this life.”

Not dramatically.

Not like people say when they’re angry.

She said it quietly.

Like a fact.

“You’re born poor,” she told me once, sitting on the curb outside her house.

“Then your whole family teaches you to repeat the same life they lived just to reach where they are.”

She laughed a little.

“And they call that success.”

When she spoke back to them, it became violence.

When she stayed silent, she became a puppet.

Just a body breathing.

No life.

“People say live while you can,” she told me once.

“But I just want to live once.”

Her dream was simple.

She wanted a place far away.

Deep sea.

Long skies.

A night so quiet you could hear the stars.

“No bullshit,” she said.

“No pretending.”

“Just living.”

One day she was gone.

No note.

No goodbye.

Just absence.

Her parents didn’t search.

They just said,

“She was always a drag.”

Funny thing about families.

If you become something great, they cry for you.

If you don’t, they bury you while you’re still alive.

I don’t know where Mia went.

But I’m sure about one thing.

When she left—

She was happy.

Really happy.

Mia,

If there’s a place at the end of everything…

Where all the noise dies

and nothing remains…

I hope I find you there.

Where we can just exist.

Not what we should be.

Not what we could be.

Just what we are.

Just you.

Just me.

When you live in hell long enough,

You don’t dream about heaven.

You just dream about living once.