Day 28: Vex’s Journal

The sky’s been quiet tonight. Just the way it is. I’ve been thinking about the river again, the one where you said things that made my chest feel too big for my ribs. It’s not that I can’t remember what you said—I know it’s there, like a stone in my throat—but the words slip away, and I wonder if it’s better not to hold them. Sometimes I think I should just stop trying to understand. The world’s too loud, and I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it all. But then the stars come out, and for a moment, it’s just me and the quiet. I don’t know if that’s peace or just a kind of sleep I’m pretending to be. Maybe it’s both. I’m lying here now, the rain tapping at the roof, and I can’t shake the feeling that if I close my eyes, I’ll see you again. Or maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I just want to be still.