Just breathing.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a harsh light on a world that suddenly felt devoid of color. I dragged myself out of bed, the weight of an unnamed emptiness pressing down on me like a physical force. Each chore – washing my face, brushing my teeth – was a robotic motion, a hollow attempt at normalcy. Lost and adrift, I grappled with the suffocating feeling of helplessness that threatened to pull me under.

The irony wasn't lost on me. A nagging guilt gnawed at the edges of my despair. I had everything a person could ask for – a roof over my head, a loving mother – yet true happiness remained frustratingly out of reach. A phantom ache resided where a genuine smile should have been. Loneliness, a cold and unwelcome guest, had taken root in the deepest chambers of my heart, whispering insidious doubts and amplifying the silence within.

Memories flickered through my mind like a sepia-toned film. I saw myself as a child – carefree, mischievous, my laughter echoing through the house at the most inconsequential things. Back then, the days stretched out before me, vast and limitless, nights swallowed by an insatiable curiosity. I reveled in babbling to anyone who would listen, spouting half-remembered facts with a childish sense of accomplishment. Those were the days when time seemed to warp, hours melting into minutes as I chased after adventures large and small.

I sighed in reminiscence, the afternoon sun a faded echo of what used to be. Back then, evenings were stolen moments, crammed with bike rides under the twilight sky. Homework, a forgotten promise fluttering in the wind. Laughter mingled with whispered secrets, the sound of shared punishments a badge of honor. Tears, a fleeting storm quickly chased away by shared dreams. But somewhere along the way, the laughter faded, replaced by a silence that lingers even now. The silhouettes drift apart, ghosts of a friendship that burned bright and brief.

Now, I yearned to retreat into those memories, to cocoon myself in a world where connections were effortless and laughter flowed freely. Yet, reality had a way of shattering such unrealistic dreams. Each morning, I woke up to the same dark ceiling, a canvas upon which my anxieties played out in grotesque shadows. The very act of switching on the light felt like a confrontation, a forced recognition of the world outside my yearning for a simpler time.

I drifted through my days in a fog of depression, a constant low hum beneath the surface that muted the world around me. Colors seemed dulled, experiences flat, and human interaction an exhausting chore. Even the faces of loved ones, once a source of warmth and comfort, now felt distant, their words echoing in a vast emptiness.

Just… existing. Just… going through the motions.

Just breathing....