The Weight of Silence:
After everything she had been through, Bethel slowly learned something she never planned to learn—how to hide what she felt.
Not because she was okay, but because it became easier than explaining.
At home, the rules still stayed the same. Every decision still had to pass through someone else. Even the smallest things felt like they needed approval. And over time, she stopped asking for too much, because asking often came with arguments she didn't have the strength for.
So she adjusted.
Not because she wanted to—but because she had to.
In school, things looked different on the outside. People laughed freely, moved around easily, made plans like life was simple. Bethel was part of it all, but never fully inside it. She was there, but somehow still holding herself back.
She would smile when she needed to, respond when she was spoken to, and stay quiet when conversations went deeper than what she could relate to.
Because deep down, she always felt like she was catching up.
Not just in money, or appearance, or lifestyle—but in life itself.
There were moments she noticed it more than others. Like when her coursemates talked about going out without restrictions, or when they shared stories that sounded so normal, so effortless. She would listen, nod, and laugh when expected—but inside, something always tightened quietly.
Still, she never said anything.
She had gotten used to carrying things alone.
Even her closest moments with herself were silent struggles. At night, when everything slowed down, her thoughts became louder than the day had allowed. She would replay conversations, decisions, and feelings she never expressed.
And every time, she would end it the same way—by pushing it down again
Because there was always another day to get through.
Another expectation to meet.
Another version of herself to present to the world.
Bethel didn't realize when silence became her habit… and her habit slowly became her weight.
But deep inside, something in her was still watching.
Still feeling.
Still waiting for the moment she would no longer just survive her life—but actually live it.