Faded Pulse

Have you ever scrolled for hours...

and still felt nothing?

Not sad. Not broken.

Just… empty.

Like the world is moving, and you're watching from somewhere underwater.

This isn’t a motivational story.

There’s no hero arc.

No climax.

No happy ending waiting at the last line.

Just a boy.

And maybe... you.

Chapter 1: The Noise That Stole Him

Aarav was 24.

He wasn't spiraling.

He laughed at memes.

He replied to texts.

He had a job, and he was “doing fine.”

But deep inside, where thoughts become feelings—there was static.

A low hum, like an old TV left on in an empty room.

He couldn’t hear it when the music was up.

But in the quiet?

It swallowed him.

He wasn’t really alone.

But somehow, he felt like he’d been missing from his own life for years.

Not gone.

Just... not present.

Chapter 2: The Art He Abandoned

He used to paint.

God, he used to feel.

Colors meant something.

Brushstrokes were like emotions in motion.

He'd lose hours in shades of blue, cry in front of a half-finished canvas.

Now?

The paints were dry.

The canvas, untouched.

A relic of who he used to be.

And every time he walked by, it whispered:

“You don’t feel like that anymore.”

And he’d nod.

Because it was true.

Chapter 3: The Lie of Constant Company

We’ve all been sold the same lie:

If you’re always online, you’re never really alone.

You laugh at TikToks at 2am.

You reply with “LMAO” and little fire emojis.

You post a song lyric and call it a vibe.

Aarav did that too.

Until one night... his phone died.

3%...

2%...

Gone.

No charger.

No screen.

Just four walls and a mind that hadn’t heard its own voice in a long, long time.

Chapter 4: The Panic of Stillness

At first, he chuckled.

Then he paced.

Then he panicked.

His fingers twitched, searching for light.

His thoughts screamed for noise.

Even the fridge couldn’t help him after the fifth visit.

It wasn’t just quiet.

It was emptiness.

That terrifying space where there’s no filter, no distraction.

Just you and the question:

Who are you when no one’s watching, and nothing is playing?

And that’s when it hit.

He wasn’t tired of life.

He was tired of never really being in it.

Chapter 5: The Old Sketchbook

Buried under clothes, behind a tangle of chargers—he found it.

A sketchbook.

Still smelling like graphite and time.

Half-finished dreams.

Eyes he never gave lashes to.

A skyline he never shaded.

His fingers trembled—not from nostalgia, but from how foreign it felt to create.

But still… he picked up the pencil.

One line.

Then another.

Something inside him shifted.

Like a light he forgot he had.

Chapter 6: The Tear That Told the Truth

It wasn’t art.

It wasn’t neat.

But it was real.

And when one tear fell—just one—and smudged the blue into a stormcloud grey...

He didn’t wipe it.

He watched it soak into the page.

Like it knew how many nights he spent feeling nothing.

Like it remembered what he tried to forget.

And he whispered, barely audible:

“I’m still here.”

Chapter 7: The You In This Story

Let me ask you something.

When was the last time you sat in complete silence...

and didn’t reach for your phone?

When was the last time your joy wasn’t filtered?

When was the last time you cried—and didn’t feel ashamed of it?

Maybe you’re like Aarav.

Maybe you used to feel.

Maybe you still can.

Because you’re not broken.

You’re overstimulated.

You’re not weak.

You’re just numb.

And numbness isn’t an ending—

It’s a signal.

Chapter 8: The Hard Truth

It’s not your fault.

You were handed screens before you had words.

Told to entertain yourself before you learned how to sit still.

But now?

It is your responsibility.

To unplug.

To remember.

To feel again.

Because no one’s coming to save your attention span.

No algorithm will hand you meaning.

You have to dig it out of the silence.

Chapter 9: The Final Scene

That night, Aarav didn’t scroll.

Didn’t binge.

Didn’t reach.

He lay there.

Breathing.

Listening.

And in the quiet,

he heard something that had been waiting for him all along.

His own heartbeat.

And for the first time in years...

it felt like enough.

If You're Still Here...

Maybe you’re Aarav.

Maybe you know one.

Maybe you were him once... or you’re on your way there now.

Let this be the first pause.

The first breath.

The first color on your canvas.

You can’t scroll your way back to feeling.

You can only slow down enough to remember you’re still alive.

Start there.

Before your battery dies.