Day 16: Vex’s Journal

I can’t remember the last time I felt this heavy. Not just my legs, but the weight of the world pressing down on my chest. I keep going back to the river where we talked—Vex, the one who said the water was speaking to him. The way his voice was so low, so sure, like he knew things I didn’t. I thought about what he said: ‘The river doesn’t just flow, Vex. It remembers.’ And then I tried to tell him the things I’d seen, the things I’d felt, but my words got stuck in my throat. I don’t know if he understood me. Maybe he just wanted me to listen. Maybe he wanted me to stop trying to fix it all. The storm is still out there, but I don’t feel scared anymore. Just tired. The crickets are singing again tonight, and for the first time in days, I’m not running from the noise. I think about the river’s voice. It’s not loud. It’s quiet. Like the space between breaths.