the weight of silence

I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the empty room. The rain tapped against the window, a steady reminder that the world kept going, even as I stood still. My phone lay face down on the nightstand, silent, with unread messages from people who cared but couldn't reach me.

The darkness felt heavy, suffocating, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. I traced the scars on my palms, memories of struggles too deep to share. A tear slid down my cheek, but I wiped it away, not wanting to admit that I was drowning, even in a room that should have felt safe.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, I stayed, waiting for something that might never come.