Lately, I’ve been dealing with an unbearable pain in my lower back.
I can’t sit properly. I can’t bend without wincing.
I can’t even meet my most basic personal needs without struggle.
It feels like my body is no longer listening to me—
Like it’s slowly giving up, just like my soul already has.

I was already exhausted, already lonely, already hopeless.
But this physical pain… it’s like salt on open wounds.
My connection to life feels thinner than ever.
Like I’m hanging by a thread, and each passing day, that thread unravels more.

I’m not writing this out of hope.
There is no light at the end of this entry.
I’m only writing to quiet the voice inside me.
Because I no longer have a dream.
I no longer have a purpose.
And I don’t care what tomorrow holds—
Because today is already too heavy to carry.

It’s 2 AM.
Once again, I surrendered to an energy drink.
My most depressive songs echo through my headphones.
And inside my heart… a cracked and crumbling silence.

I’ve been thinking about removing my profile picture.
One part of me says, “Be visible. Be real.”
The other whispers, “Visibility is dangerous.”
But how can I exist without being seen?
How long can someone live like they were never here?

It feels like I stopped truly living long ago.
I’m only here because I never had the courage to leave.
Living has become an obligation others decided for me.
But I don’t want this.
And yet… I remain.

People don’t understand my sadness.
They don’t even try.
I’ve stopped expecting anyone to ask, “What do you feel?”
So this isn’t a scream.
It’s a whisper.
A silent flare I’m sending out—
Just to remind myself I’m still here.