For months, I kept silent. Not because I wanted to hide, but because I didn’t understand. I didn't have the words to explain why entire afternoons would slip away without memory. Why, sometimes, I would look in the mirror and not recognize myself. Why I would float above conversations, watching myself speak as if I were someone else. Why my world would suddenly feel dreamlike, muffled, distant. And why, despite it all, I kept telling myself: “Maybe I’m just tired.”
