DOC NAYAN

For last few weeks, I did not want answers. I wanted acknowledgment something minimal, almost administrative. A sign that the weight registered somewhere outside my own body. I have never asked for favors when comes to dealing with difficulties always been lone types, there would be storm inside me and won’t see freckle on my face , I learned early on to call it strength but This time, the structure failed. Still there is churn while I write this I am trying to follow exactly all the thought trails and fix it move on to never repeat that. But man this time it got heavy brain fog is real, I sent sos to possible people

I cried alone we all do but this time I heard myself crying. Not quietly, not politely it was loud enough that my room, its ceiling and its walls, bore witness. They saw a warrior mid-battle laying down his armor, felt the vibrations as metal hit the floor every guard, every practiced defense collapsing at once. Eleven years ago, the friend who taught me how to write ended his life, and only now can I imagine how loud his room must have been, how hard his armor must have struck the floor one last time, and how many battles he fought that never made it to words. Only now does the scale of it become intelligible. I was not there for him, and I do not say this with guilt or in search of redemption only as a delayed comprehension of how heavy silence can be, and how loud it must feel when it finally breaks.

I reached out to people I believed cared and they genuinely do but the silence on my end was so heavy it couldn’t travel to the other side. The truth is, they were carrying their own chaos, their own unspoken weight. I cannot be selfish in that knowing. I know my people love me deeply so deeply that if they had seen me on the floor, it would have shattered them, the same way I would break if I ever heard them cry.

I have not given up yet. I am back in the war armor on, swords clinging louder than my cries. But for a moment, I stopped performing resilience. I did not seek saving I only wanted to be heard, if only to confirm that the silence was real.

This pen-down is not for an audience. Truth be told, it is for a time yet to come when this side of the internet is crossed and someone may know that there was a warrior who rose from the mud, put on his armor, and stood up to fight one more battle, and many more after that.