It shows up as a tight throat when you try to speak honestly, a restless night where your mind keeps replaying the same moment, or a sudden flush of shame you thought you outgrew.

Not just a mood, but something built inside you, something you keep bumping into no matter which way you turn.

It is not loud or flashy, but it lands in that private space where you hold your quiet hopes.

Like standing in a dim room knowing there is a garden just outside the window, waiting for light and rain.

There are days when you feel busy but strangely stuck, like you keep rearranging the same pieces of your life without actually moving anywhere.