SILENT STRUGGLES

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t of reach. I really needed to practice as if my life depended on it, though it did. As the days turned to weeks, practice became my new norm as I adapted to the system. I had not made any acquaintances, let alone friends. Instead, I had gained a title, "the headphones' girl". Can you blame me though I couldn'

emaining energy after practice to a part time job at a café. There I met Nami, the manager, who was an English speaker. She was tall, giving her a commanding presence, yet with it came unexplainable gentleness. Her short hair was alw

my words couldn't. My silence was not a barrier to her. She had offered to show me around as she had noticed how much I had a hard time communicating most times. I

y in a kaleidoscope of colors. The nightlife awakened, a symphony of laughter and music echoing through the historic districts, where jazz clubs and contemporary galleries coexisted in harmonious dissonance. There were quieter

things. To me, she had become a bridge to a world I was still navigating. I could say I had made a fr

others who were always enthusiastic to call their siblings and family, to inform them how they were fairing, I felt my phones' absence because I hadn't had my fair share of reading the upda

h I struggled. I knew my father was worried, but I just couldn't do it. What was I to say? I had been told that he had called almost every week, but I couldn't find it within me

onsible, untidy and I didn't like cooking. I was anything but what a girl was expected to be; I loved riding bicycles and sports and hated cooking, my room was always untidy, and I was always either watching television or reading a book and talking to no one at home. It's n

s was something I didn't fancy, but it proved to be quite inevitable. At school, as the others played police and robber, I sat at a corner with my neck craned to a book. Home made no difference, just that I was busy l

h it never became physical. My social anxiety grew as I grew in age bu

super charismatic woman to lying in bed wallowing in unbearable pain. Her pain had an impact on all of us and kept breaking a piece of us each day. Watching each one of us retire to bed, with insomnia being an uninvited gu

ad found solace in the arms of my aunt, who had been our support during my mother's illness. In my innoc

drawal from our family dialogue left me feeling isolated, as if I were an error in the family equation. All I

ished for? In my quest for understanding, I grappled with the realization that my brother's bond with our mother was a private one, leaving me on the periphery. Despite this, I believed

as amidst this isolation that my mental anguish intensified, finding a silent ally in the razor's cold embrace. A clandestine witne

and mother's words labeling me as an 'attention seeker' lingered, casting a shadow over that desire. Perhaps it was for the best, to remain unse