You had an argument with our parents again. Our parents have called you lazy, selfish, and a weirdo again. You're locked in your room and you don't even bother to come out at all. I stand outside your door wondering what to do now. It's almost midnight, and I am 100% sure you are not sleeping, but crying or something. I finally enter your room and see you, crying, with a biology book in your hands and headphones on. You sit on the floor in the corner of the room and stare out the window at the rainy night. I sit down on your bed and stay quiet for a moment, not knowing if I should speak up or not.

"Sweetheart, you know..."