Waiting in the Quiet Shadows

Dear Lord, the fog outside my window here in Baguio feels exactly like what is happening inside my head. I have been sitting in the dark for three nights now, just staring at the wall, wondering if You can even see me through this thick cloud of numbness. I keep trying to pray, but the words just get stuck in my throat like the cold air that bites when I step out to the balcony. Everyone tells me to just 'be positive' or to visit the Burnham Park and breathe, but how can I breathe when my chest feels like it is being crushed by a weight I cannot name?

I have done everything right, po. I worked hard to support my younger siblings, I finished my degree, and I have tried to be the son Tatay would be proud of. But now, even the thought of getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. Where are You when the silence becomes this loud? Have You forgotten the plans You supposedly had for me, or was I just never part of the bigger picture to begin with?

I am so tired of performing, of smiling for the relatives during Sunday lunch, and of saying 'opo' when deep down I want to scream because I feel completely empty. What do I do now when I cannot even find the strength to believe that tomorrow will be better? I just need to know if You are still here, or if I am truly doing this alone.

Your broken son, Aris