By Vasundhara Bellamkonda
I don’t want to run away forever,
Just… disappear, for a while.
No dishes calling my name,
No hands reaching for mine.
Just two days
Where the silence isn’t heavy,
It’s healing.
I want to wake up
Without a checklist in my head.
To eat when I’m hungry,
To sleep when I’m tired,
To walk without a destination—
Except maybe toward a forgotten version of myself.
I want to be alone,
But not lonely.
To hear my own thoughts
And not feel guilty for listening.
Is that too much to ask?
Two days where I am not a wife,
Not a mother, not a machine—
But a woman.
Breathing.
Being.
And when I return—if I return—
Let it be as someone
Who remembers she matters,
Even when no one else says it.