Because love that flips the switch for you is not love. It is control.
Relationships and Attempts at Connection (200–300 words)
To the world, she was a ghost in a crowded room. But here, in the shadows, she was a queen of silence. She had grown to love the darkness because it never asked anything of her. It didn’t ask why she was quiet or why her smiles felt like borrowed clothes. Then came the letters. Or rather, the digital echoes.
As she sat in her small, dimly lit room, the only sound being the soft hum of the computer in front of her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over her. The walls, once a bright and cheerful yellow, now seemed to close in on her, a constant reminder of her isolation. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the sunlight, and the only light came from the faint glow of the screen.
She is still in the room. The curtains are still mostly drawn. But the small lamp is on. She is sitting at a desk that she has cleared off. She is writing something—not a text to a boy, not a desperate plea for attention. She is writing a list. A grocery list. A to-do list. A list of three things she will do tomorrow.
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