JullieteWire
This short story offers a raw, unfiltered look into the quiet, invisible weight of depression.
Told in the first person, it doesn't scream for attention-it whispers, letting you feel the slow unraveling of someone who has mastered the art of appearing "fine" while quietly falling apart inside.
Through small, ordinary moments-brushing their teeth, forcing a smile, nodding in the right places-the narrator reveals what it's like to live on autopilot. The exhaustion they carry isn't the kind that sleep can fix; it's the kind that seeps into their bones and makes even breathing feel like effort.
This story doesn't romanticize the pain-it sits with it. It's a glimpse into what it means to feel disconnected from joy, to search your memory for the last time you felt truly alive and come up empty.
It's short, but it lingers. And for anyone who has ever felt like they were fading in plain sight, it's a reminder that you're not invisible-and you're not alone.