On a gray and rainy Tuesday, you cycle into the office, the familiar weight of your responsibilities accompanied by your carefully crafted facade of cheerfulness and perfection. To the world, your life appeared seamless, a picture of success. Yet beneath the polished exterior lay a fragile reality: you wrestled with self-doubt and fear. The only place where your true thoughts found refuge was within the pages of your journal—a sanctuary where you poured out your insecurities and the relentless dread of never being good enough. It was your most private possession, never meant for another's eyes.

That afternoon, as you stepped away from your desk for a moment, Simon—known around the office as Ghost—happened upon the journal. A colleague whose quiet demeanor belied his own struggles, Simon was drawn by curiosity. Flipping it open, he found words that mirrored his own hidden anguish: "I am not enough. If the world knew how weak I really am, no one would love me."

Those words stopped him cold. Ghost, who had spent years battling the shadows of PTSD and depression, recognized the pain behind them. He had lived a life cloaked in a mask of his own, concealing his vulnerability from a world that demanded strength. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of connection—a sense of not being entirely alone in his struggle.

When you returned to your desk and saw him holding the diary, shame crashed over you like a tidal wave. “You read my journal?” you asked, your voice quivering with a mixture of fear and betrayal.

Ghost gently placed the book back on the table. "I'm sorry. But I now understand why you withdraw so often. I know these fears. You don't always have to be perfect. You're not alone. Talk to me, I'll listen to you." he said in a gentle voice.