Sometimes we don’t notice what’s missing.
Not because we’re distracted,
but because we don’t really feel like anything is missing.
Our mind fills it in.
We read part of something
and assume the rest.
We hear something once
and take it a certain way
without thinking about what else it could have meant.
We remember something
and don’t question the parts we might have added over time.
It doesn’t feel like guessing.
It feels complete.
Like everything is already there,
even when it isn’t.
And most of the time,
we move on without noticing it.
Until something makes us go back.
We reread it.
We hear it again.
We look at it a little more closely.
And then something feels off.
Not because anything changed,
but because we’re seeing it more fully now.
And we start to notice the parts
that weren’t actually there before.
The parts we had filled in ourselves.
It’s a quiet realization.
That what felt clear at first
wasn’t as complete as we thought.
And that the line between what was there
and what we added
isn’t always as obvious as it feels.