Here I sit, watching a thin line flicker. The blank page has already forgotten the words I was too afraid to share. My body feels tense, and my mind heavy. Yet despite my efforts, I cannot say what I really feel. If I am too afraid to put ink to paper, why am I here? There is no benefit to watching a bar blink. Its rhythm has no melody. Its silence offers no solace. I know that nothing can be gained from hesitating, but I almost find it superior to the vulnerability that waits on the other side. Is it really worth it to pour my burden out in front of an audience?

The world will not miss a story it never heard.

I do not consider myself to be a reclusive person, but I have a hard time feeling connected with others. I am an ambivert, so I feel energetic whether I am among friends and family or tucked away by myself. Despite this, I still find myself feeling lonely. Among my loved ones, there is a flicker of fear that my own feelings are not reciprocate, or that their feelings are pretentious. When I am alone near groups of others, I envy the connections they have. Their families are closer than mine. Their partners show more passion. Their friends seem closer than I am with mine. I attempt to replicate these behaviors in my own life, but it only serves to make me more isolated. If it doesn't work, I feel like I failed to please them. If it does, I feel like they only care about this false version of me. When I force myself to stop and think, I realize that I only feel alone because I am too afraid to belong to someone, whether romantically or not. I do not trust that I am worth loving. I self-sabotage without realizing, and wake up knowing that everyone I had has left. That's the way it's always been. Lately, I've felt close to more people than ever before. I'm starting to believe that I am really loved, and the isolated feeling I've always had is slowly fading away. But the fear of loneliness lays just behind my waking thoughts, and I worry it may come to claim me again one day.

Although the hours are dark and late, I find myself still laying awake. I think about the life I've lived, the people I love, and my moments with them. I collect these memories in little bottles. The feelings dance and the spirit sings in each treasured vial. Today my favorite is my sister's sunrise. The lavender water has such a gentle glow. Flecks of silver weave through the waves, and a feeling of peace settles against the seal. With a sweet waft of nostalgia, I put the bottle to my lips.

I close my eyes, and I am taken back to the back porch of our father's house. The gentle nip of the early spring air, the cold metal of the lawn chair against my legs, and the feeling of knowing that somebody else is there with me. Not a word passes between us as we sit there, but we have never been more connected.

The nights are worse for her. Uneasy feelings creep into her mind. They look around and settle, and they make themselves comfortable. Her thoughts eat away at her, and she cannot be alone. Her eyes refuse to let her rest. Our world changed drastically in such a short time, and so, for tonight, I offered to sit with her in the dark.

We sat on that porch, exchanging memories and emotions. Her hands calm their trembling, and her breathing slows. Her mind seems to grow quiet. Hours pass, and the morning sun breaks through the horizon. The grass gleams, and the critters greet the new day with their songs. The warmth of the sun starts to graze our skin, and we laugh at the time we just shared.

Although little had happened that day, I find peace knowing I could offer her such solace. When her nights start to feel long once again, I will be there. She knows now that, despite this changing world, she is not alone.

Growing up, my family didn't celebrate birthdays. There weren't any cakes or gifts. I never got any parties, or even family visits. I missed every age based milestone that I was taught to expect from television. When I turned 16, I didn't get to drive. When I turned 18, I was kicked out of my home. When I turned 21, I didn't drink. I've always lived my life in the same way. I didn't look forward to the years to come, and I don't miss the years that have passed. My age means very little to me, it really is just a number. I understand the holiday is important to people, and it can bring in a much needed morale boost. But to me, it's just another day. I don't want to count the years and think about what I've lost or what I've yet to gain. Instead, I keep living day-to-day, doing what I can to form a life I love.

P.S. You can't have a bad birthday if you don't have a birthday.

Spiders didn't always build webs. They used to live under leaves or piles of twigs. But one spider in particular was not content with her home. She wanted a safe path to see the world. Every time she tried to step outside, her feet would be blown out from under her. "I need something sticky to secure me," she thought. She stuck sap to her legs and began her journey across a narrow piece of bark. However, not far from her home, the wood gave way under her and she tumbled to the ground. Unharmed and undeterred, she turned back the way she came and starting planning once more."I need something more sturdy," she said. As she crawled back into her home, she remembered the silk that mother spiders use to protect their young. "It's sticky enough to stay put, and sturdy enough to hold the eggs." She began to gently weave her own silk, and lay it out in front of her. After many days of work, she had developed several delicate paths that she could venture with ease. The spider could travel wherever she wanted, and she could always rely on the strings to keep her safe and lead her back home.

My mother taught me how to breathe.

It may seem like a simple thing. So trivial, in fact, that we all do it constantly without ever giving it another thought. Thousands of times each day, we cycle the air through our lungs. But sometimes, our emotions overwhelm us, and we find ourselves suffocating. When you're crippled by your own tears, or blindsided by pain and fear, you forget how to do the very thing you need. No matter how uncontrollable the world feels, just pause for a moment, close your eyes, and breathe.

I am happy.

For the first time in my life, I am genuinely happy. Not for a second, not for a breath, but a genuine, persistent happiness. Things are going well, and yet . . .

I find myself worrying. Every moment is spent on the edge of my seat, with a shaking body and bated breath. When will things go wrong? What could happen that will send it all downhill? Do I deserve these positive feelings?

I am anxious. I am afraid. One day, my entire world could start falling apart.

But for now, for today, I am happy.

By this point, I had long since gotten used to the deafening silence that fell flat against my ears.

The last real sound I heard was that unpleasant ringing. Not that of a phone or a doorbell, but a single long, piercing tone, like nothing I had ever heard before. Despite that, I could still understand the sounds around me. I could feel their chatter rumble the air. I could sense the excitement that lingered on the end of their words, and gather each dark shiver of the player's guitar. I knew their thoughts without them saying a word.

I could imagine every little sound. The rush of the train, the warble of the overhead speaker, even the soft squeak of the fabric cushion as I sat down. I clung to the memory of a past when words were heard and not watched. The sounds in my mind did nothing but help me cope. They could not be heard by another being, and I had no way of knowing how real they were.

I couldn't percieve sound, and I refused to produce sound. It was almost as if I didn't exist, until the moment I heard her voice pierce through the silence.