The Weight of Shadows

Elias woke up to a heavy silence. Not the kind that brought peace, but the kind that pressed against his chest like an unseen hand, making it hard to breathe. The sun had risen, painting golden streaks across his bedroom floor, but he felt no warmth from it. Just another day. Another battle.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring at the floor for what felt like an eternity. The simplest tasks had become mountains—brushing his teeth, making breakfast, answering texts. His phone buzzed somewhere beneath the tangled sheets, but he ignored it. The world outside moved on, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

At work, he went through the motions, nodding when necessary, speaking only when required. The world expected him to function, so he did. But inside, he felt like a ghost—a shadow of the person he used to be. He remembered laughter, once easy and abundant. Now, it was a foreign language he had long forgotten.

“Elias, you okay?” His coworker, Mira, placed a gentle hand on his arm.

He forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mira hesitated, eyes searching his face as if looking for cracks in the mask he wore. But she only nodded. “Let me know if you want to grab lunch later.”

He wouldn’t. But it was nice to be asked.

The train ride home was a blur of movement and noise, but Elias barely registered any of it. His thoughts whispered relentlessly—dark, insidious things that curled around his mind like vines. You’re not enough. You never were. You never will be.

As he stepped into his apartment, the weight in his chest grew heavier. He didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, not from labor, but from the exhaustion of existing.

Then, a sound. A soft meow.

He turned his head to see Luna, his cat, perched on the armrest, staring at him with wide, knowing eyes. She hopped onto his chest, pressing her tiny weight against him. Warmth. A reminder that he was not alone.

Elias let out a shaky breath. He lifted a hand, running it through her fur. The storm in his head didn’t disappear, but for the first time that day, the weight felt just a little lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

4o

Elias woke up to a heavy silence. Not the kind that brought peace, but the kind that pressed against his chest like an unseen hand, making it hard to breathe. The sun had risen, painting golden streaks across his bedroom floor, but he felt no warmth from it. Just another day. Another battle.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring at the floor for what felt like an eternity. The simplest tasks had become mountains—brushing his teeth, making breakfast, answering texts. His phone buzzed somewhere beneath the tangled sheets, but he ignored it. The world outside moved on, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

At work, he went through the motions, nodding when necessary, speaking only when required. The world expected him to function, so he did. But inside, he felt like a ghost—a shadow of the person he used to be. He remembered laughter, once easy and abundant. Now, it was a foreign language he had long forgotten.

“Elias, you okay?” His coworker, Mira, placed a gentle hand on his arm.

He forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mira hesitated, eyes searching his face as if looking for cracks in the mask he wore. But she only nodded. “Let me know if you want to grab lunch later.”

He wouldn’t. But it was nice to be asked.

The train ride home was a blur of movement and noise, but Elias barely registered any of it. His thoughts whispered relentlessly—dark, insidious things that curled around his mind like vines. You’re not enough. You never were. You never will be.

As he stepped into his apartment, the weight in his chest grew heavier. He didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, not from labor, but from the exhaustion of existing.

Then, a sound. A soft meow.

He turned his head to see Luna, his cat, perched on the armrest, staring at him with wide, knowing eyes. She hopped onto his chest, pressing her tiny weight against him. Warmth. A reminder that he was not alone.

Elias let out a shaky breath. He lifted a hand, running it through her fur. The storm in his head didn’t disappear, but for the first time that day, the weight felt just a little lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

4o