I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the pages of my book, though I haven’t really read a word in the past hour. My room is quiet, a welcome contrast to the noise of the world outside, but even that silence doesn’t help. It’s like this sometimes—thoughts crowding in, emotions pushing at the edges, and all I can do is push them down. Keep them locked away.

But today, it’s harder than usual.

I close the book, feeling the weight of everything pressing in. I tell myself I’m used to being alone, but there's a small part of me that wonders-should I be? The thought lingers, tugging at me. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone. Not to the others, but to you. You’ll understand, won’t you? I stand up, the decision made before I even realize it. Leaving my room behind, I head down the hall to find you, feeling something unfamiliar: the need to vent. I walk down the hallway, the sound of my footsteps the only thing breaking the silence around me. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I keep going. When I reach your door, I see it’s already open, like you were expecting me. It makes this a little easier.

I step inside without a word, my usual mask of calm still in place, but just barely. You’re sitting there, and as soon as I see you, the wall I’ve been holding up starts to crack. I don’t wait for you to say anything. The words come out before I can stop them.

“I can’t keep doing this,”

I say, voice low but edged with frustration.

“I’m tired of constantly holding everything in, like I’m supposed to just... carry everyone’s emotions, deal with my own, and never let it show.”

I pace a little, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to find the right words.

“It’s like... if I slip for one second, if I let one thing go, everything unravels. And I’m not allowed to do that. I can’t lose control, not even for a second, or people get hurt. I don’t know how long I can keep this up."

I stop, finally meeting your eyes.

"You... know what i mean?"