I can’t remember the last time I felt light… the last time I wasn’t carrying this weight.

Every step is heavier than the last. My body cracks under the pressure, but I keep moving, even if it’s just crawling. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s hope, though I don’t know if I have any left.

The chains dig into me, reminders of everything I can’t escape. Regret. Pain. The past. The future. It’s all the same—it all pulls me down. I want to stop, to rest, but even the ground feels like it rejects me, pushing me further into the dirt.

I wonder if anyone sees me. If anyone cares. If I called out, would they hear me? Or would my voice be just another whisper lost in the wind?

Carry on… just as you’ve always done.