There was a time when everything felt easier. I could finish an entire season of a show in one day. I would get lost in stories, live alongside the characters, and lose track of time. Watching a movie used to take me away from reality for a while. But now? Now, I can’t even focus on a single scene.

I spend my days listening to music and feeling empty. I keep playing the same songs over and over—because they remind me of the past. I don’t want to go back, no. But I want to feel the hope I had back then, to feel emotions as intensely as I once did. Now, everything feels so dull, so distant, as if I’m not really here.

My anxieties have taken over me. The future stands before me like an insurmountable wall, and I don’t know if I have the strength to climb it. Actually, I do know—I don’t. Because everything I’ve been through has exhausted me to the point where I feel like there’s nothing left to fight with.

Everything is pressing down on me so much that even breathing feels like an unnecessary effort sometimes.

The feelings I once had have been replaced by nothing but exhaustion. It’s as if everything inside me is fading away, and I am disappearing along with it. But I don’t want to be stuck in the past. I just want to feel that hope again. The joy that allowed me to binge-watch shows for days, the thrill of hearing a song for the first time, the quiet excitement of looking forward to the future…

But now… Now I feel trapped within four walls. And worst of all, there’s no one on the other side who truly understands me. Even when I try to explain, my words don’t seem to reach anyone. Or maybe they do, but they don’t truly hear me. And sometimes, I realize that I don’t even want them to. Because even if they understood, what would change?

This helplessness feels familiar. I’ve felt it before—during my darkest moments. Back then, people told me, “It will pass.” But it didn’t. It just changed form, turning into a different kind of weight inside me. I’m afraid to hope again. Because every time I try to hold onto something, it slips away.

And yet, I am still here. I am still here. Maybe that means something. Maybe, one day, this weight will be lighter. Maybe, one day, I’ll feel that hope again. Maybe, one day, I’ll lose myself in a story once more, or feel my heart tremble at a song.

Maybe, one day, I’ll truly come back to life.

But not today. Today, I am just existing. And sometimes, even that is hard enough.