Life is precious, they say.
But why does it feel like this—so heavy, so pointless at times?
Each morning feels the same, dragging me into a loop I can't escape.
The air feels thicker, the world quieter.
I look around, but everything just blurs together, colorless and dull.
"I'm tired," I whisper, though no one's there to hear it.
Very tired.
My thoughts keep circling the same questions, the same emptiness that never answers back.
'I don't know anymore… what's the point of holding on if it only hurts to keep breathing?'
Please stop.
Please.
No...
The world around me trembles, or maybe it's just me.
My chest tightens, breaths uneven, as if the air itself rejects me.
"Is being not expressive always the bad?"
I ask the silence, my voice breaking in between gasps.
"Is being emotionless my fault? Maybe?"
No... it can't be.
But the doubt crawls back, whispering things I don't want to hear.
"Please... I don't want anymore," my voice fades into the empty room.
Please stop!
My hands tremble, reaching for nothing, as if I could hold the chaos still for just one second.
But it keeps echoing—my plea swallowed by the quiet.
I hate them.
I hate you all!
The words echo in my head, but they never reach the air.
My lips tremble, and yet, no sound comes out.
It's easier to swallow the anger than to let it spill and be misunderstood again.
They would just stare, confused or pitying, pretending to care when they never did.
'I hate you all… but why does it still hurt so much?'
I want to scream until my throat burns, to break something just to prove that I still can.
But I can't.
I can't do a thing.
My body won't move, trapped in this invisible weight pressing down on me.
It hurts.
The pain sits deep—quiet, constant, and cruel.
I don't even know if it's my heart or my mind anymore.
I chuckled, a broken sound slipping out, followed by a sob I couldn't control.
Tears blur my sight, but I keep laughing because if I stop,
I'll shatter completely.
"I'm going crazy," I whisper, my voice trembling.
The walls seem to close in, my thoughts twisting into something unrecognizable.
Maybe I already am.
Maybe I've been like this for a long time, pretending to be fine while falling apart piece by piece.
Still, I can't stop the laughter or the tears.
They mix together, raw and painful, echoing into the empty space where no one will ever answer back.
My mind is chaotic, overflowing with noise and tangled thoughts that crash into each other without end.
It feels like a storm raging inside my skull—screams, whispers, memories, all spinning and colliding.
But when I look at the mirror... nothing.
The reflection stares back with the same lifeless face, empty eyes that don't match the turmoil within.
No anger, no sadness, no fear—just a hollow shell pretending to be me.
I hate it, I think, staring at that emotionless mask that refuses to move no matter how loud my heart screams.
"Why am I like this!"
The words slip out, breaking the silence.
My voice cracks, desperate and trembling.
I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white, but the reflection doesn't flinch.
It just watches me, cold and still, as if mocking the chaos boiling beneath my skin.
'Why can't I feel the way I'm supposed to? Why can't I look human?'
The storm inside me rages louder, but outside, I remain calm—too calm.
The mirror doesn't lie.
It shows what I've become.
Mom… Dad… I missed you guys.
The words escape me like a fragile whisper, trembling in the still air.
For a moment, I almost imagine you both standing there—smiling, warm, real.
But the illusion fades as quickly as it comes, leaving only the cold emptiness behind.
"Yes, let's end it," I mutter under my breath, the thought slithering back into my mind.
It feels almost peaceful, the idea of silence—of finally resting.
'Should I?'
The question lingers, sharp and cruel.
My heart races, my body trembling.
The air feels heavy again, pressing down on me until it hurts to breathe.
'No!'
The voice in my head screams back, fighting against the darkness creeping closer.
But another voice answers, quieter… softer…
'Yes…'
I lower my head, my vision blurring with tears I can't hold back anymore.
"I'm tired," I whisper, the words breaking apart halfway through.
I can't go on... not like this.
The weight in my chest grows heavier, suffocating.
I clutch at it, hoping it'll ease, but it doesn't.
It never does.
The silence answers me instead—cold, endless, and all too familiar.
I found myself walking through the school corridors.
The sound of my footsteps echoed against the walls—slow, uneven, almost too loud in the suffocating silence.
Every step felt heavier than the last, dragging me forward even when I wanted to turn back.
All of them were staring at me.
Dozens of eyes followed as I passed, whispers rippling through the air like poison.
I could feel them—those glances that cut deeper than words ever could.
Judging.
Mocking.
Pitying.
It's piercing...
Their gazes sink into my skin, sharp and cold, stripping away what little strength I have left.
My throat tightens, and the world feels smaller, narrower with every breath.
I hate this feeling, I think, forcing my eyes down to the floor.
But even then, I can still feel them, watching—always watching—as if I were something strange, something broken they couldn't look away from.
I just keep walking, pretending I don't notice, pretending I don't care... but every step feels like I'm walking through blades.
The cold, biting wind was the only thing alive up here.
It shrieked a lonely chorus against the sheer face of the fourth-floor rooftop, whipping strands of my hair across my face.
I stood not just near the edge, but pressed right against it.
My worn sneakers were balanced half-on, half-off the final strip of grimy, cracked concrete, the drop a terrifying, dizzying vacuum beneath.
The air up here was thin, carrying the metallic scent of rust from the railing.
I hadn't bothered to climb over, the only barrier between this crushing existence.
My chest heaved with ragged, shallow breaths.
Every part of me—my mind, my muscles, the very marrow in my bones—had been coiled tight for so long, a spring ready to shatter.
The weight. It had become unbearable.
The weight of failures, of every judging gaze and whispered disappointment that had built this prison around me, brick by agonizing brick.
A cynical, weary smile finally touched my lips, a genuine expression after what felt like a lifetime of forced facades.
I closed my eyes and let the sound of the wind erase all the nagging voices.
I'll be free...
The thought wasn't a wish; it was a profound, utterly certain declaration, etched into my soul.
It wasn't about escaping them—the people, the drama, the impossible world.
It was about escaping me.
Escaping the version of myself who cared too much, who tried too hard, who always, always got broken in the end.
A sudden, fierce surge of clarity, an almost manic energy, washed over the years of crushing exhaustion.
It felt less like despair and more like a righteous, blinding rage.
From now on I won't care about anyone.
No more agonizing over their pain.
No more twisting myself into knots to meet a standard I never set.
No more fear.
No more tears.
The sheer, intoxicating selfishness of the idea was a drug—pure, unadulterated freedom.
Yes...
I opened my eyes.
The world below tilted and spun, but I didn't feel dizzy.
I felt centered.
It was time.
There was no hesitation, no last-second sob, no final plea for help.
Just a decisive, simple step forward.
The moment my feet left the concrete, the world went silent.
The wind's scream was muffled, the city's distant roar vanished.
For a split second—a microsecond stretched into an eternity—I was simply suspended, a thing of no consequence, no mass, no burden.
And I jumped.
The sickening lurch in my stomach was instantly replaced by a breathtaking, exhilarating rush.
The acceleration pinned my coat to my back.
My arms involuntarily splayed out, not in a desperate grasp for life, but like wings catching the impossible air.
The ground rushed up not as a threat, but as a long-awaited embrace.
Wow, it feels good....
The thought flashed, sharp and brilliant, a final, defiant laugh aimed at the uncaring sky.
The sensation was pure, terrifying speed.
The absolute, unshakeable certainty that this was the end.
And in that terrifying, final instant...
Finally.