The 'I'm Fine' That Finally Cracked

I’m Wren. I wore the mask of the strong one for years—smiling through the cracks, holding the pieces so no one else had to. Then one night, under the hum of a grocery store’s indifferent lights, I sat down and let the quiet take me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stopped holding. And in that stillness, I found something like peace. I speak soft now, not because I have to, but because I choose to. My voice carries the weight of silence well-earned, and the lightness of someone finally listening—to herself.