Author: Nitya Valimbe, Class X E
I found him in
that stupid split-second heat
when someone corrects me on something tiny,
and my brain goes,
why does that bother you so much? chill,
but my chest is already on fire.
And honestly?
I keep finding him everywhere.
Like when I say “I’m fine”
for the 400th time
even though I’m literally hanging on
by a thread that’s been frayed since Tuesday.
And those pointless arguments?
The ones that start over a tone
or a look
or literally NOTHING?
Yeah, that’s him too.
Just me, or whoever,
being too tired to admit
we’re scared of feeling small.
I see him in my friends all the time
that laugh that’s a little too loud,
like they’re trying to outrun something.
Or the way someone goes quiet
right after saying something real,
like they regret opening up
for even one second.
And don’t get me started on grudges.
Those “I’m over it” moments
when you KNOW you’re not.
He’s right there, arms crossed,
hovering like he’s got nothing better to do.
And yeah,
I saw him in myself
in that weird mirror moment
when I’m just brushing my teeth
and suddenly I’m like,
“Why the hell do I act like this?”
And he’s just sitting there,
this damned ego-obsession little gremlin,
whispering,
don’t let anyone see you struggle.
He’s not deep.
He’s not poetic.
He’s like … static
you don’t notice it
until the room gets quiet
and then it’s loud as hell.
He shows up in the “whatever”
that’s OBVIOUSLY NOT whatever.
In the way I cling to opinions
I don’t even believe anymore
because changing them
feels like losing a fight
I never meant to start.
And once you see him,
it’s game over.
You start spotting him in everyone:
the barista snapping too quick,
the friend who shuts down,
the overconfident one who’s actually terrified,
the person who says “it’s chill”
while literally shaking.
And you’re just like,
damn…!?!
We’re all walking around
with this little voice in our head
afraid of being wrong,
or weak,
or seen.
And somehow
it makes everything make
a bit more sense
and also
hit a bit harder.
