Darkness filled the room. A faint sound of sobbing echoed through the silence. Maya rose from her bed and followed the sound.
“Who could be crying at this hour?”
Her house felt unfamiliar — stained walls, an empty room, a flickering light trembling between shadows. In a corner sat a girl dressed in black, hiding her face as she wept.
“Who are you?” Maya asked gently. “Why are you crying?”
“I… I’m tired,” the girl whispered, her voice shaking. “Tired of trying. Tired of being betrayed. I trust too easily. I give my heart away for a little love… a little attachment… a little empathy… and it always breaks. Maybe I’m foolish. Maybe I will never learn.”
Maya knelt beside her. “Trusting isn’t foolish. Being kind isn’t a weakness. You believe in your relationships more than you believe in betrayal. The fault lies with those who deceive, not with the one who loves honestly. Sometimes the wrong people leave because they were never meant to stay.”
The girl’s tears slowed into silence.
Suddenly, another voice echoed — loud, restless, almost desperate. Maya followed it and saw a girl with pink hair and bright red lips, shouting into the empty air.
“Why are you screaming?” Maya asked.
“I… I don’t know,” she stammered. “I can’t say what I feel. Not to my mother. Not to my father. Not to my friends. I act strong. I pretend I’ve moved on. I smile like nothing hurts. But when night comes and everything grows quiet, the voices inside me won’t stop. They shout. They suffocate me. So I scream.”
“That’s childish,” Maya said softly.
“And is dying silently inside mature?” the girl snapped. “We keep worrying about what others will think, but everyone else is doing the same. If we had spoken honestly, this place wouldn’t feel rotten. There would be flowers here. There would be light.”
“Then why isn’t there?” Maya asked.
“Because this is you. You built this.”
She vanished.
Maya looked around — stained walls, broken roads, chains binding strange creatures. Outside, vehicles rushed past towering buildings. The world was loud, yet her heart felt unbearably silent.
Someone touched her shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
“Everyone runs to live,” Maya murmured, “yet life ends with every passing second. Why do we live as if we’ll never die, and die as if we never truly lived? Responsibilities, dreams, money — they matter. But somewhere between fear of losing people and fear of judgment, do we forget the small joys?”
The voice replied gently, “Feeling pain is necessary. Remaining in pain is not. This moment is all you truly have. Tomorrow is uncertain. There will be fear. There will be hurt. But there will also be happiness. A child’s smile, helping someone, breathing without fear — these small moments heal the soul.”
Everything faded.
Maya opened her eyes.
For the first time, she had spoken to her own mind — words she had never dared to say. And in understanding herself, she finally felt free.