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We sat under the tree behind the gym after school. Lena and I. It was her idea.
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She didn’t ask questions, didn’t push. She just sat. Gave me space to fill or leave empty.
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After about ten minutes, I said something I hadn’t told anyone in years.
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“I don’t think I’ve ever really felt wanted. Like… if I disappeared, people would move on in a week.”
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She didn’t flinch. She didn’t argue. She just nodded slowly, like she understood that silence sometimes hurts more than shouting.
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She said, “That’s heavy. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”
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Then she pulled a crumpled page from her notebook. It had small writing across it.
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“My brother felt the same. He never told anyone until it was almost too late. I learned the hard way that quiet people still scream.”
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That was the first time I felt something crack inside me. A good kind of crack. Not the one that breaks you..... the one that lets light in.
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