"When Tia Breaks"

Chapter Two – When My Soul Drifted… and Tia Stayed Behind

I wasn't asleep.

But I wasn’t fully awake either.

I wasn’t present.

But I hadn’t disappeared.

I was... somewhere in between.

As if I stood on the edge of an endless cliff,

and the wind pulled at me—softly, deliberately—

not to throw me off, but to lift me.

I wasn’t scared…

but I wasn’t at peace.

The air thickened.

The whirring of the ceiling fan slowed,

like time itself whispering: “Stop.”

Everything began to blur… even my heartbeat.

I was curled up in the corner of the room,

hugging my own body like it was the last piece of warmth I had left.

But honestly? I wasn’t feeling anything.

No sharp pain.

No clear sadness.

Not even a thought to hold on to.

I was just… there.

Not because everything was okay.

But because everything was not.

And I was too tired to cry about it.

Too tired to think.

Too tired to care.

Then suddenly—without warning—

I felt something shift.

Like my skin was too tight for me.

Like my soul was stirring underneath it, restless, searching…

for a way out.

Like every part of me just wanted to escape.

Not by breaking,

not by screaming,

but by… letting go.

One second.

That’s all it took.

The world faded.

And I separated.

I, Tia… left me.

I watched my body from above, hunched and silent and small.

And I… the real me… began to rise,

to float, to drift into something that wasn’t a dream,

but felt more vivid than consciousness.

I wasn’t scared.

I didn’t fight it.

For the first time in my life… I felt light.

Painfully light.

As if I’d been carrying a mountain on my back,

and now—just like that—it vanished.

I started to drift.

Not walk.

Dissolve.

My body turned to clay.

And I?

I was the water breaking free from it.

Everything was still—

except for me.

In that suspended space between me and myself,

I saw… me.

Not the version I show the world.

Not the reflection I catch in mirrors.

But me—raw, real, fragile.

My face didn’t look familiar.

Not because I forgot it,

but because I had never dared to truly look.

I floated.

And I remembered.

My childhood.

My loneliness.

Every time I walked home, hoping someone would ask, “What’s wrong?”

No one ever asked.

Every “How are you?” was just polite noise.

And every “I’m fine” was a lie.

I used to write my feelings on scraps of paper

and hide them under my pillow,

praying I’d wake up to answers.

But the answers never came.

Only silence.

And the silence grew roots inside me.

Every scene played in the air around me—

fragments of Tia, suspended in stillness, watching me…

judging me…

or maybe…

forgiving me.

I saw myself trying to speak—

but my voice collapsing before it reached my lips.

I saw fake smiles—

smiles I wore like masks to hide the storm inside.

I saw every time I said, “I’m okay,”

when I was really falling apart.

And with every memory…

I melted more.

Closer to nothingness—

closer to truth.

I was hurting.

In a way no one ever noticed.

Not even me.

Until I stepped outside myself…

and looked.

I saw her—Tia—

sitting in corners,

hiding from mirrors,

folded between the lines she wrote but never dared to read aloud.

And then, in the middle of that weightless sorrow,

I felt… warmth.

Not from outside—

from within.

From my soul.

It whispered:

“I’ve been here all along. Why do you keep leaving me?”

I looked at myself again—

but this time like a mother seeing her child.

With compassion.

With tenderness.

I saw the scars.

But I didn’t flinch.

I saw the weakness.

And I loved her more.

I wasn’t weak because I cried.

I wasn’t dramatic because I broke.

I was strong because I… survived.

Not everyone survives this kind of quiet agony.

Not everyone makes it through themselves.

But I… came back.

Not all at once.

But slowly—like my soul was cautiously folding itself back into my skin.

Like I was knocking on my own heart’s door…

and it finally opened.

My spirit slid back inside me like a whisper.

Like an embrace.

Like I was telling myself, “I forgive you.”

I opened my eyes.

The room was still the same.

The walls were still cold.

The silence was still heavy.

But I… was different.

I am Tia.

The girl who left herself,

watched herself break,

accepted every shattered piece…

and returned.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

Not because I was in pain—

but because I finally saw myself.

Felt myself.

Knew my worth.

And I?

I’m not small.

I’m a girl the world gave up on a thousand times—

but who never gave up on herself.

I’m a cloud that drifted…

but found her way back—

and now?

I rain.

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