Chiara (Patreon)

Chiara Elizabetha

I press my back against the cold wall, letting the rough texture bite into my skin. It feels grounding. Real. Something solid to lean on in a moment when everything inside me feels like it’s collapsing in slow motion.

This room… it mirrors me in ways I don’t want to admit.

Worn.

Weathered.

A place time forgot.

I draw my knees close, curling into myself as if I can protect the pieces that still feel fragile. Abandonment has a strange weight — not sharp, not sudden, but heavy, like a tide that keeps rising no matter how tightly you hold your breath.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes.

And in the quiet… something inside me finally speaks.

You don’t have to hold it together anymore.

The thought sends a tremor through me, a release I’ve been resisting for far too long. All the turmoil — the fear, the anger, the loneliness — it surges up like a wave, but instead of drowning me, it feels cleansing… freeing.

“I’m still here,” I whisper to the empty room, the words catching in my throat. “I’m still me.”

The silence answers, but this time it doesn’t feel cruel.

It feels patient.

And I let myself breathe — fully, deeply — as if each breath pulls me a little further away from the ache of being left behind… and a little closer to myself.

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