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Elias sat on the curb with his knees pulled close to his chest, watching the city rush around him like a river that refused to touch him. Shadows passed. Voices blurred. Cars screamed through the cold air. Everything felt too loud, too bright, too heavy.

His hands were trembling in his pockets. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from something deeper.

He was tired. Not the kind of tired sleep could fix, but the kind that lived in his bones — in the quiet corners of his mind. The world felt hostile, sharp at the edges, as if it had been carved specifically to cut him.

He once believed he was meant for something more.Now he wasn’t sure he was meant for anything at all.

A girl walked by, laughing at something on her phone. Her laughter hit him like a punch.

How were people so effortlessly alive?How did they breathe without feeling the weight of everything?What did he have besides thoughts that dragged him down?

He stood up slowly and began to walk without purpose. The city stretched before him — gray buildings, cracked sidewalks, lights flickering like dying stars. Every step felt like a reminder:

You’re not enough.You don’t matter.You will disappear, and no one will notice.

He reached an old bridge. The river beneath was black, moving without hurry, without care. It didn’t know him. It didn’t ask anything of him. Elias leaned on the railing and stared into the water.

“If I fell... would anyone even know?” he whispered.

The wind stole his voice before it touched the river.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to die.He just wasn’t sure he knew how to live.

And yet, somewhere in a quiet, hidden place inside him, something faint whispered:

Keep going.

He didn’t know why.Maybe because breathing was the only thing he still remembered how to do.