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Held
it’s just a thought.One small idea.Barely formed. Something I swallowbecause it’s easierthan explaining again. It sits behind the teeth.Under the tongue.Polite.Contained. I tell myself:“It’s almost time.”That the silence will stop.That waitingdoesn’t cost anything. The world lovesthis version of me.The quiet one.The reasonable one.The one who understandsthe process. So I wait. And while I waitthe voice doesn’t disappear –it presses. It becomes a weight in the chest.Tightness.A currentlooking for a way through. Because a voicecannot be pausedwithout consequence. What happens insteadis that it flows inward.Every unspoken wordadds pressure.Every delayed answerraises the waterline. Still,they don’t hear it. They say I’m calm.They say I’m coping.They saynothing looks wrong. They mistake restraintfor consent. But…
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Are You There?
We’ve all been there—drifting into the abyss,slipping out of place,until reality claws us back,kicking, screaming, unwilling. And what a reality it is. A world that hums,a world that races,people trapped inside their own little bubbles.Obsessed with drama.Drowning in demands. Your voice bounces,echoes,lost in the hollow chamber of noise.And you ask yourself—“Does anyone even hear me?” Meanwhile—someone lies in a hospital bed.Alone. Mum.Dad.Nain.Taid.Aunty. Uncle.Brother. Sister. Too far to visit.Too busy to call.Are their families there for them?The answer? … No. And when a stranger collapses in front of you,are you there? When someone is dragged to the ground,their voice cut short—are you there? No. Most turn their faces away.Most step over…
