Writers 
There are some people who can disappear for days and then return with the confidence of someone who has been talking to you every day.
No explanation.
No awkwardness.
Just a casual, “How are you?”
And somehow, they expect you to continue from where you stopped.
I used to find this irritating.
Actually, sometimes I still do.
Because how do you disappear from someone's life, reappear whenever you feel like it, and then act like the conversation has been paused rather than abandoned?
But I've noticed something interesting.
People have very different ideas of what communication means.
For some people, talking every day is normal.
For others, they can go several days without speaking to you and genuinely not see anything wrong with it.
One person thinks, "If you care about me, you'll check in."
Another thinks, "If something is wrong, you'll tell me."
Neither person necessarily thinks they're doing anything wrong.
They're simply operating from different expectations.
And I think that's where a lot of misunderstandings begin.
We assume people will communicate the way we communicate.
If I naturally check on someone when I haven't heard from them, I might assume they'll do the same for me.
If I respond quickly, I might wonder why someone else takes hours.
If I like keeping conversations going, I might interpret someone's silence as disinterest.
But sometimes, silence is just silence.
Sometimes, someone is genuinely busy.
Sometimes, they saw the message and forgot to respond.
Sometimes, they're terrible at keeping in touch.
And sometimes, yes, they simply don't feel the same need for communication that you do.
The difficult part is figuring out which one it is without turning every unanswered message into a detective case.
I've caught myself doing that before.
Looking at the timing.
Remembering the last conversation.
Thinking about what I said.
Wondering whether I should send another message or leave it.
And honestly, sometimes the amount of energy we spend trying to interpret someone's behaviour is more exhausting than the behaviour itself.
I've started learning to pay more attention to patterns than individual moments.
One missed message doesn't tell me much.
One late reply doesn't tell me much either.
But repeated behaviour tells a story.
And I think that's a much healthier way to look at people.
Not every silence needs an explanation.
Not every delayed response needs an emotional meaning.
But when something happens consistently, I don't have to keep making excuses for it either.
I can simply notice it.
That's probably the biggest difference for me now.
I'm learning to notice without immediately reacting.
To care without overanalysing.
To give people room to be themselves while also paying attention to how their behaviour affects me.
Because understanding someone doesn't mean I have to accept everything from them.
And having expectations doesn't mean I have to make someone conform to them.
Sometimes, the healthiest thing is simply to understand that two people can care about each other and still have completely different communication styles.
One person may disappear and come back like nothing happened.
The other may have spent the entire time wondering if they did something wrong.
Neither experience is imaginary.
They're just different.
Maybe that's why communication is such a funny thing.
We're not just exchanging words.
We're bringing our habits, expectations, experiences and personalities into every conversation.
And sometimes, the person on the other side has no idea what their silence means to you.
Just like you may have no idea what your silence means to them.
So these days, I'm trying not to turn every gap in communication into a story.
Sometimes, I'll reach out.
Sometimes, I'll leave it alone.
Sometimes, I'll laugh and say, "Typical."
And then I'll get on with my day.
Because people will communicate differently.
Some will be consistent.
Some won't.
Some will surprise you.
Some will frustrate you.
And some will disappear for a while and return as though they only stepped outside for five minutes.
At this point, I think I'm just learning to observe the pattern...
and stop writing an entire novel around one missing message.