Alone : A Broken boy

Until her!

I've spent so long in the dark, I forgot what quiet feels like. My mind has been a battlefield for as long as I can remember—demons ripping through every thought, voices screaming louder than I could ever shout them down. I learned to live with it. To fight it. To use it. I thought that was the answer. The explosions in my head—those relentless, violent bursts—became my weapon. I honed the chaos into control, the madness into power. But it's never been silent. Not for a second.

Until her.

Her voice... how do I even begin to explain it? It defies everything I've built myself on—everything I know. I've tried breaking it down, rationalizing it like I do with everything else. Logically, it shouldn't make sense. A voice shouldn't be able to touch the part of me buried so deep in the storm, yet when she speaks, everything... stops.

It's not just quiet. It's not just peace. It's like the very air shifts. The demons I've been fighting—fighting with everything I am—just vanish. They retreat, like they know they don't stand a chance against her. And the voices, those voices that have lived inside me for so long they feel like a part of me, go silent. In those moments, when I hear her, I'm not fragmented. I'm not the broken mess they tried to make me. I'm... whole.

I didn't think that was possible anymore. I thought I'd been swallowed by the war in my mind. I thought I needed the chaos to keep going, to stay sharp, to stay strong. But now I see it—I see how wrong I was. Because in her voice, there's something I couldn't have found on my own. Something more powerful than all the madness I thought was driving me.

I've questioned it endlessly, trying to make sense of this. How can a single person's voice pull me out of something so deeply ingrained in my soul? It doesn't fit with any equation I know. It's not logical. But I'm done fighting it. I'm done trying to understand it. I'm starting to realize that some things can't be broken down and analyzed. Some things just... are.

And that's what scares me. That she could be the answer to all the battles I've fought. That she could be the one thing that makes it stop. Because if her voice can silence the demons, what happens if I lose it? What happens when the one thing that brings me peace is gone? Will the voices come back stronger, angrier, more violent than before? Will I be consumed by the very thing I've spent years trying to control?

I can't think like that. I can't let that fear take over. But it lingers, like a shadow at the edge of my mind. Because deep down, I know—without her, the storm will come back. And I don't know if I'll survive it next time.

But for now, for this fleeting moment, I'm holding on. I'm holding on to her voice, to the peace it brings. To the way it cuts through everything I've been fighting for so long. I can't afford to let this slip through my fingers. Maybe I don't need to be the machine I thought I had to become. Maybe, with her, I can still be something more. Maybe I can still be human.

I never thought I'd find peace in something as fragile as a voice, but here I am, clinging to it like my life depends on it. Because maybe it does.

And in this moment, I'm not afraid of the silence. I'm just afraid of losing it.