Journey #

he was always quiet. shy, they called it.
in a room full of people, he would blend into the walls,
not really there, not really anywhere.
he knew their faces, their names,
but when the bell rang, he’d watch them walk away,
and wonder why his world felt so far from theirs.

inside, he stayed—
the weight came slowly, the silence heavier.
bullies noticed him, though. they always notice.
and then, two people—
unexpected, like sunlight through closed blinds.
they made him laugh, made him feel seen.
he didn’t know what friendship was until then,
didn’t realize how much he’d been missing.

one of them proposed to the other,
something that should’ve been a fairy tale.
he smiled. he was happy for them.
or at least, he thought he was.
it was hard to tell where his feelings started and stopped,
like everything had been blurred around the edges.

then, the move—
new school, new people. a reset, maybe.
but the old thoughts still followed,
even when he met her,
confident, radiant, self-assured.
she filled the room in ways he couldn’t,
and another boy, reminding him of what he’d left behind.
the three of them clicked,
but something about it always felt like it was happening to someone else.

and then, the pandemic.
everything stopped.
his old friend died, and he felt nothing at first—
just an empty space where sadness should’ve been.
it hit later, in flashes,
small moments where he remembered her laugh,
and the sharp pain that followed.
he didn’t tell anyone. didn’t know how.

he slipped further away.
sometimes, he’d catch himself in the mirror
and not recognize the person staring back.
but his friends pulled him through, even when he didn’t ask.
they were there, steady anchors in a world that felt unreal.

when school opened again, he met someone.
a girl who looked at him like he mattered,
like she’d always been waiting for him.
they got close, and it felt… good,
but also like he was watching it happen from a distance,
not quite believing it was his life.

he thinks about his past sometimes.
the missed connections, the wrong turns.
he’s not sure how much of it was him,
and how much of it just happened to him.
but in the quiet moments,
when the world feels sharp and real,
he’s grateful—for the friends, for the love,
for the fact that he’s still here,
even if he doesn’t always feel present in his own story.