lila

Lila moved through the hallways like she had invisible weights on her shoulders. Every smile she gave felt borrowed, every nod a quiet promise she hadn’t wanted to make. It had started small—agreeing to help someone with homework, lending her jacket, covering a shift for a friend. Nothing that seemed like too much at the time. But then it grew. Faster than she realized. Every request became another thread tying her down, every expectation another weight pressing her chest. She said yes because saying no felt wrong, because disappointing people felt unbearable, because… well, it was easier than making someone upset. Her backpack was heavy, not just with books, but with favors, promises, and obligations she’d never asked for. She felt herself disappearing in plain sight, fading into the background of everyone else’s lives while they smiled, laughed, and leaned on her. And yet, when she stopped for even a moment to think, the exhaustion hit her like cold rain. Her hands shook slightly, her stomach twisted with the thought of the next favor she’d be asked to do. People didn’t notice how tired she was—they didn’t see how much she gave, how much she carried. Every hallway, every classroom, every glance reminded her that she was always available, always willing, always saying yes… except to herself. And that day, as she moved past a group of friends planning yet another favor, she realized something important: if she didn’t finally say no, she might lose herself completely. Because being everything to everyone had a cost—and she was starting to understand just how high it really was.