Ari’s feet carried her across the same worn sidewalk, past the same tired buildings, but today, everything felt different.

The world, though bustling with life, felt disconnected, like she was walking through it as a mere spectator rather than a participant.

Her chest ached, a hollow emptiness expanding inside her, threatening to swallow everything in its path.

The weight of her mother’s words from the morning still pressed against her ribs, suffocating her with every breath.

Ari’s feet carried her across the same worn sidewalk, past the same tired buildings, but today, everything felt different.

The world, though bustling with life, felt disconnected. Colors felt washed out, sounds felt distant. Even the sunlight couldn’t touch the heavy cold sitting in her chest.

Her chest ached, a hollow emptiness expanding inside her, threatening to swallow everything in its path.

The weight of her mother’s words the other day still pressed against her ribs, making it harder to breathe.

“Maybe it’s time you consider getting a real job.” A casual statement. A whisper, almost.

But to Ari, it felt like an accusation. A reminder of her failures, of every step she had yet to take, of every promise she hadn’t fulfilled.

The words echoed louder than anyone intended, bouncing around inside her mind until they scraped at her from the inside.

What does ‘a real job’ even mean?

Her footsteps faltered for a moment. The question dragged her mind into a spiral, an exhausting loop she’d run through so many times before. She had tried to explain to her family that writing wasn’t just what she liked to do. It was the thing that kept her tethered. The only consistent piece of herself she had left.

But they never understood. It wasn’t practical. It didn’t pay the bills. It wasn’t real.

Maybe… maybe they were right.

A gust of wind slid through the street, colder than she expected. Ari pulled her coat closer around her, but the chill wasn’t something fabric could fix. It lived deep in her bones.

She hated this feeling, the constant weight, the constant pressure, the constant certainty that she was falling behind. Being dragged down by everything expected of her.

I should go back to writing, she thought. Maybe it would help. Maybe it would quiet the noise in her mind.

But it didn’t. It never will. Writing used to be her sanctuary. A place where she could breathe. Where she could spill her fears out onto the page and make sense of them. Where she could build worlds that didn’t hurt the way real life did.

But now, even that safe place felt distant. Blurred. Out of reach.

Yesterday, she had tried. After picking up her nieces from school, after cleaning the house, after answering her sisters’ endless messages about what she needed to do.

She had sat in front of her computer, staring at the blank screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came. Not a single word.

Her family’s expectations pressed in on her from all sides, demanding, scolding, criticizing, even when they didn’t speak. They wanted her to be dependable. They wanted her to be useful. They wanted her to be the version of Ari that made their lives easier.

And she tried. God, she tried.

But yesterday, something inside her cracked. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the nearest thing on her desk, a coffee mug, and threw it against the wall.

The smash was sharp and violent, echoing through the room, and for a moment the silence afterward felt deafening.

The pieces scattered across the floor, and Ari stared at them with shaking breath.

The anger hadn’t left. It had only grown. A storm swirling inside her, pressing against her ribs.

Why do they keep doing this to me?

Why was she always the one expected to hold everything together?

“You’re lazy.”

“You’ll never make it as a writer.”

“You have to stop dreaming.”

“Face reality.”

Their voices played in her mind like a broken record.

Ari dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. She waited for the tears, willed them to come, but nothing fell.

Instead, the numbness spread.

Cold.

Silent.

Empty.

I don’t want this life. I never wanted this life. I didn’t choose to be born, so why am I even here? For what purpose? I don’t want to be here anymore.

The thought hit her so hard it felt like she’d been punched. Her breath stilled. Her heart stuttered.

Then her phone buzzed. Kim’s name lit up the screen.

‘Ari, can you pick up the kids today? I’m running late.’

A simple request. But to Ari, it felt crushing. Another responsibility. Another weight thrown onto her back.
Another reminder that no matter how she felt, she was still the one expected to show up.

She wiped tears she hadn’t realized had escaped and forced her limbs to move. Every step felt heavy, like she was wading through wet sand.

As she stepped out of the park road, her eyes drifted automatically toward the small playground at the corner of the block, a place she visited often, on days when everything felt too loud, too heavy. It was tiny, barely more than an old swing set and a slide, but it had always brought her a sliver of calm.

She would sit on the cold metal swing, letting the quiet sway soothe the chaos in her chest. Sometimes, that moment of stillness was the only break she allowed herself.

Today, she didn’t have time to stop.

But her eyes lingered on it. Longing for a moment of peace she could not take.

The walk to the school dragged on, each step like pulling herself forward with invisible weights tied to her ankles. By the time she reached the gates, she felt breathless, suffocated.

Children shouted and laughed. Parents chatted loudly. The noise swarmed her, pressing against her mind like a tightening vise.

She spotted her nieces immediately. Their faces lit up when they saw her. They ran toward her, arms wide, reaching for her affection.

Ari forced a smile. Hugged them tightly. Even though inside, she was unraveling.

“Aunt Ari, are you okay?” the youngest asked, her voice tiny and earnest.

Ari’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Only the lump in her throat. She nodded instead.

They walked back home together, their small voices filling the silence she was too tired to break.

When they reached the apartment, the heaviness returned full force. Her mother, her sisters, each with expectations waiting for her, each adding another stone to her already full pockets.

Ari greeted them, forced another smile, and then retreated into her room.

She needed space. She needed silence. She needed to breathe.

But most of all, she needed a life that didn’t feel like it was crushing her from the inside out.