The Fire Inside

I feel so helpless.

Every day, I wake up, and it's the same. The same pain. The same emptiness. The same feeling that no matter how much I try, I'll never be enough.

People don't see it. They don't see me.

But she's always there.

She doesn't even realize it, but she keeps me going.

She's the only one who talks to me like I'm a person, like I'm not invisible. She laughs, she jokes, she walks beside me without hesitation. Like she doesn't see the broken pieces inside me.

But she doesn't know.

She doesn't know that when I feel like I'm drowning, her voice is the only thing that keeps me breathing.

She doesn't know that I replay our conversations in my head when I'm alone, just to feel something real.

She doesn't know that every time she smiles at me, my whole world stops—even just for a second.

She doesn't know that I love her.

So much.

So much that it aches.

So much that I don't even know what to do with it.

But I can't tell her.

Because if she knew… what if she left? What if she looked at me differently?

What if I lost the only thing that keeps me standing?

So I stay quiet. I keep it inside.

And I keep walking, pretending that just having her near is enough.

I sit in class, staring at my notebook, but the words blur together.

I can hear them—the whispers, the quiet laughs. I know they're about me.

It doesn't matter how much I ignore it. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself I don't care. The words still cut. The looks still burn.

And today… I feel too tired to fight it.

But then—her voice.

"Hey."

I blink, looking up. She's standing there, her head tilted, eyes full of something I can't describe.

"You okay?"

I swallow hard. "Yeah."

She doesn't believe me. I can see it in her face. But she doesn't push. She just sits beside me, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like I'm not some broken thing she should avoid.

The room still feels heavy. The voices still echo. But with her here… it's not as loud.

She starts talking—about random things, about nothing, about everything. I just listen.

And for a moment, I forget the weight pressing on my chest.

But she doesn't know.

She doesn't know that just by being here, she's saving me.

She doesn't know that when she leaves, the silence will come back, swallowing me whole.

She doesn't know…

That she's the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

The night feels different.

The wind is colder, carrying something strange—a whisper, a pull.

I don't know why, but my feet move on their own, leading me away from the usual streets, away from the places I know.

And then—I see it.

A door.

Standing alone in the middle of an empty alley, where no door should exist.

The wood is old, cracked, and covered in strange symbols I don't understand. The handle looks ancient, almost frozen in time.

Something inside me stirs.

This place isn't normal.

The air around it hums, like it's alive. Like it's waiting.

I step closer. My heart pounds, but I don't stop.

My hand reaches out—fingers brushing the cold metal.

And then—everything shifts.

The alley disappears. The night vanishes.

Suddenly, I'm somewhere else.

The sky above me is deep violet, swirling like liquid shadows. The ground is made of smooth, endless stone, stretching in every direction. Strange lights flicker in the distance, floating like lost stars.

And in the center of it all—a figure.

They stand still, waiting, cloaked in darkness.

I don't know who they are.

I don't know where I am.

But somehow… I know this is where I was meant to be.

I blink. Once. Twice.

Okay. What just happened?

One second, I was in a normal alley. The next, I'm in some weird, mysterious space with a creepy figure staring at me like they're about to deliver some deep, life-changing prophecy.

But before I can even think about running, the figure takes a step forward.

"You have finally arrived." Their voice is deep, almost echoing.

I stare. "Uh… okay? Who are you?"

The figure ignores my question. "You are the chosen one."

I blink again. "The what?"

"The chosen one," they repeat, as if saying it again will make it make sense.

I raise a hand. "Hold on. Pause. Chosen for what? Because if it's to save the world, I gotta warn you—I barely passed math last year, so I don't think I'm qualified."

The figure sighs. "It is not about math."

"Oh, good, because that would be tragic."

They exhale louder. I think I'm annoying them. Great.

"You have powers within you. A destiny you cannot escape."

I cross my arms. "Listen, man, I barely have the energy to get out of bed in the morning, and now you're telling me I have to deal with magic and destiny? That sounds like a lot of responsibility."

The figure groans. They actually groan.

"Why do the chosen ones always resist at first?" they mutter.

"Maybe because you guys are super vague and dramatic instead of just explaining things like normal people?" I shoot back.

Silence.

I swear I hear them sigh again. "Fine. Sit down. This is going to take a while."

So here I am—in a weird void, talking to a mysterious figure who is probably regretting their life choices.

Great. Just another normal day in my totally normal life.

I sit down on the weird, glowing floor of this… whatever-this-place-is. The mysterious figure looms over me, looking all dark and mystical.

"Are you ready to accept your fate?" they ask, all serious.

I squint at them. "That depends. Does my fate include free food?"

Silence.

"Because, look," I continue, "if I'm going to be some kind of 'chosen one,' I feel like I at least deserve unlimited pizza or something."

The figure rubs their temples. I have officially stressed out the mysterious being.

"This is not about pizza," they say slowly, like they're explaining something to a toddler.

"That's disappointing," I mutter.

"You have a great power inside you," they try again, regaining their ominous tone. "You are meant to—"

"Wait, wait, hold up." I point at them. "Do you guys have a script for this? Because I feel like I've heard this exact speech in a movie before."

They stiffen. "That is irrelevant."

"Aha! So you DO have a script." I smirk.

The figure lets out the deepest sigh in existence.

"Can you take this seriously for one moment?" they beg.

I pretend to think. "Mmm… nope."

They throw their hands in the air. "The prophecy did not say I would have to deal with this."

"Well, maybe the prophecy should have included a warning: 'This chosen one comes with sarcasm and a lot of questions.'" I shrug.

For a second, I think they're going to explode. But instead, they take a deep breath, pinch the bridge of their nose, and say, "Fine. Let's try something else. What is your greatest fear?"

I pause. "Running out of snacks in the middle of a movie."

"No." They shake their head. "I mean a real fear."

I tilt my head. "Have you ever seen a cockroach fly toward you? That's a real fear."

The figure turns away like they're reconsidering their entire existence.

I grin. This is the most fun I've had in a long time.