Chapter 6: The Weight of Unspoken Things

There's something incredibly unsettling about the quiet. It's not the kind of silence that's peaceful or calming, like when you're surrounded by nature, or when you're alone in a room with a good book. No, this is the kind of quiet that wraps itself around you like a shroud, pressing against your chest, until it feels like it's suffocating you.

I'm used to it now, that suffocating quiet. The silence in my head, the one that tells me that I'm not enough. The one that tells me that I'll never be enough. No matter how hard I try to be the person everyone expects me to be, there's always this nagging voice that says: you don't belong here.

I didn't know it was possible for a room full of people to feel so empty. But that's exactly how I felt when I walked into school that morning, the usual hum of voices around me seeming to blur into a faint noise I couldn't tune into. I passed by the clusters of students without really seeing them, my eyes glazing over the familiar faces, the smiles, the laughter. It felt like they were all living lives I couldn't touch.

Am I the only one who feels like this?

I sat down at my usual table for lunch, my friends scattered around as they always were, chatting and laughing, but I couldn't find a way to join in.

"Yo, Tanaka!" Yuto called out, rapping his knuckles on the table to get my attention. "You look like you're a million miles away. Come on, man, talk to us. What's up with you today?"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts, and forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." The words were automatic, slipping from my mouth like they always did.

Miyu raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? You've been like this all week. Is something going on?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What could I say? That I felt like I was slowly falling apart inside, that I couldn't keep pretending to be the same person everyone knew? I couldn't even make sense of it myself, so how could I explain it to them?

I forced another smile, but it was thin and hollow. "Yeah, it's nothing. Just tired."

Yuto and Aki exchanged a look, but they didn't push it. They never did. They always assumed I was fine, because I looked fine, didn't I?

But I wasn't fine. I hadn't been fine for a long time.