Pretending at sunrise

CHAPTER THREE 3

Chapter Three – The Waiting Room

Everything is back to normal—whatever “normal” really means when you’re living in a hall crowded with people but feel unseen. No more obsession, no flutter in my chest when I spot someone in the corridor. It’s just me again, sinking gently into that familiar darkness. My thoughts swirl, heavy and loud, bouncing off the inside of my skull until even my dreams are just shadows behind closed eyes.

Some nights, I imagine my songs will carry me away—maybe one day, I’ll wake up and something will finally change. I’m a songwriter. I sing, too. Sometimes my voice is the only place I belong. But that voice echoes in empty spaces: no capital, no sponsors, just a handful of notebooks and a heart full of stories nobody’s asked for.

My family, they’re supportive. That should be enough, right? Some days, the gratitude is real. Other days, it feels like a wall—like there’s something wrong with needing more than they can give. Is that selfish? Is wanting to be heard too much to ask? I’m grateful, and guilty, and always, somehow, alone.

Loneliness here is a different flavor. It’s deeper, because nobody really knows me. I can’t talk about love—about what it really means to love or want someone—because the fear of being judged is louder than my own heart. It’s not like I even have a love life. If I’m being honest, it’s always been a story I watch from the outside, never one I really live.

And quietly, almost by accident, the truth slips out: I’ve given up. I’ve never really said that before, but it’s true. I don’t know what to hope for anymore. Inspiration left, maybe for good, and I’m just here, going through days in grayscale, wishing—without really meaning it—that maybe death would do me a favor, just so the pain would stop. Not that I want that, not for real, but sometimes the ache is just too much to carry alone.

But then—almost as if the world heard me—a tiny crack of light: I meet someone online. Unexpected. Someone I’m willing to talk to, for real this time. Maybe nothing will come of it, but for the first time in a long time, a piece of me stirs, wondering if connection is possible after all.