Things couldn’t always be totally fine, but that was normal, right? Life was supposed to have its ups and downs. Still, how low did you have to fall before you realized that the world you built for yourself wasn’t enough to keep your mind afloat? Viktor had always seemed so composed, so controlled—his brilliant mind a fortress, always calm under pressure. But today, he found himself at a breaking point, sitting alone in a dimly lit workshop, surrounded by half-finished inventions, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like a vise.

It took him a moment to get up from the table and start walking, his crutch supporting him as always, his legs moving almost automatically to a place, that bridge, a place to reflect or where he could finally drown it all, he looked at the shore with temptation taking a few steps towards it.

He didn’t ask for help. He never did. Ever since he was young, he’d been taught that the burdens of genius should be borne alone. Admitting weakness was a luxury he could not afford, especially when his inventions, his dreams, depended on him staying strong, staying focused. And yet, despite his best efforts, his inventions weren’t the only thing he was struggling to keep together.

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, staring at the aggressive river, his failed prototypes mocking his mind silently. There was so much more he wanted to achieve, so much he still needed to prove. But the constant pressure, the nagging feeling that he was running out of time, was wearing him down.

A sudden sound—a voice —startled him from his spiraling thoughts. He turned to find a familiar figure.

“Am I interrumpting?….” You said the soft yet concerned voice.

Viktor opened his mouth to reply, to assure you that he was fine, but the words caught in his throat. His eyes flickered over to the scattered plans, the schematics that seemed to taunt him. He exhaled sharply, trying to mask the exhaustion creeping into his face.