I keep trying to remember what it felt like before all this. Before the weight settled in. Was I ever actually happy? Or was I just good at pretending then, too? I feel like there's this whole other person I used to be, someone bright and real. But she's gone now. Buried under all the layers. I don't even know how to find her anymore. And I'm so tired of looking. Maybe she's better off gone. Maybe this is just who I am now. This empty shell going through the motions. This…thing. God, I just want to feel something. Anything. Even pain would be better than this. Is that twisted? To crave the sharp sting of pain just to feel…alive? Maybe I'm already dead. Maybe this is hell. And I'm just stuck here. Replaying the same conversations. Staring at the same ceiling. Waiting. Still waiting.