Life Story

I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror one morning. Not metaphorically, I mean, I stared and my face felt like a mask someone else wore while pretending to be me. My eyes weren’t mine. They had this quiet violence in them, like a storm that’s forgotten how to rage but still knows how to ruin... I stood there, half-dressed, toothpaste still foaming in my mouth, wondering how a person could exist and still not be here. You know that feeling when you scream into a pillow and the silence that follows is louder than the scream? That was my everyday life. Wake up. Fake the smile. Dress like the world expects. Perform the rituals of “normal.” But inside, I was clawing at walls no one else could see. My soul was a room with no doors, and the lights flickered constantly... and when I begged for help, it came wrapped in clichés, You’ll get through it. Time heals. Be grateful. Grateful? Grateful for the suffocating weight on my chest every night that whispered, You’re not enough. Grateful for th...

He stood there, still, like a man frozen between two clocks. One that ticked too fast and another that had stopped altogether. Around him? Chaos, but not the kind that screams. No, it was quiet chaos. Dust-heavy air. Pages curling at the edges. Bullet-point dreams that never made it past the ink. Books unopened like doors he never dared walk through. A warzone of abandoned ambition. His hands were strong. His back could carry weight. His lungs still held breath. But inside? Inside he was dragging chains. You couldn’t see them, but oh… they were there. Heavy. Cold. Forged by every damn day he said, “Tomorrow.” Have you ever felt time punch you in the stomach? Not with fists… but with memories of all the days you wasted while pretending they didn’t matter? That’s what woke him up lately. Not alarms. Not goals. Guilt. Thick, sticky guilt that clings to your soul like molasses. Sunlight through the blinds didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt like judgement. Like God was peeking in, disappoint...