The Moon Shines when the Sun Isn't Around

Part 8

King walked home in silence, the smile he had given Oreo long gone, replaced by the heaviness he couldn't shake. He felt like a fraud. Everything inside him was dark, tangled in a mess of thoughts he couldn't untangle. He'd done it again—pretended like he was fine, like her words had helped, but deep down, nothing had changed. He was still drowning.

As he entered his room, King collapsed onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The usual vibrant energy he carried was gone. The jokes, the laughter, the lightness he brought to every interaction—it was all just a mask now. He felt hollow inside, like every bit of life was being drained out of him, and no matter how much he tried to fake it, the truth was always there, gnawing at him.

**King (thinking):** *What's the point of all this? Why am I even here, pretending like it's all okay?*

He turned his head, eyes falling on the photos taped to his wall—memories of better days, when the weight didn't feel so unbearable. Back then, he was genuinely happy. But now? Now it was like he was playing a role, trapped in a life he didn't recognize anymore.

**King (thinking):** *I used to feel things... real things. Now everything is just gray. I can't even remember the last time I was truly happy.*

His mind was racing, spiraling deeper into the darkness he tried so hard to ignore. Every day felt heavier, like the world was pressing down on him. He was tired of pretending, tired of holding up everyone else, and yet, the idea of letting go felt terrifying. He couldn't let them see how broken he was—Oreo, his friends, his family. They all expected him to be the strong one, the one who made things better. But what happened when he couldn't even make himself better?

**King (thinking):** *I'm so tired. So tired of this act. Of trying to be everything for everyone and nothing for myself.*

He squeezed his eyes shut, the thoughts getting louder, more overwhelming. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was just... done. Done with pretending. Done with carrying this weight.

**King (thinking):** *I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm just this guy who smiles and makes jokes because it's easier than dealing with everything. But inside, I'm falling apart, and no one even notices.*

His phone buzzed, a text from Oreo. He glanced at it, feeling the guilt creep in. She was trying so hard to help, but no matter how much she cared, she couldn't fix him. How could she, when he didn't even know how to fix himself?

He opened the message, reading her words.

**Oreo (text):** *Just checking in. Hope you're doing okay. Remember what I said earlier—we're in this together. I'm here for you.*

King sighed, typing out a quick reply before tossing his phone aside.

**King (text):** *Thanks. I'll be fine. Don't worry.*

It was a lie. A lie he'd gotten too good at telling. Every "I'm fine" was just another layer of the mask he wore, another way to keep people at arm's length. The truth was, he wasn't fine. He hadn't been fine for a long time, but admitting that? Admitting that he was struggling? That felt impossible. It felt like giving up.

He buried his face in his hands, the weight of everything pressing down on him harder than ever. Every laugh, every joke, every time he made someone else smile—it felt hollow now, like he was just going through the motions. And the more he faked it, the more it drained him.

**King (thinking):** *What's the point of making everyone else happy if I can't even feel anything myself?*

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts, but by the time he moved, it was dark outside. His room felt suffocating, the walls closing in. He felt trapped in his own head, unable to escape the spiral of negative thoughts.