Heartbeat on a Screen

...a letter from the depths, for anyone who’s ever felt invisible in a crowded room

Hi friend,

I’ve been wondering: how do we stop letting our anxious minds take the lead? Those relentless thoughts that pop up uninvited, rehearsing every worst case scenarios on repeat, that drag us back into the shadows just when we’re finally reaching for something brighter. What would it look like, i wonder, if we allowed ourselves to imagine the possibility of something better? Not just things that could go wrong, but things that might actually go right?

But today, I don’t feel grounded. I feel like I’m slowly unraveling, thread by thread.

I’m sitting on the train, eyes heavy with tears I can’t fully name. Maybe I do know why but the reasons are so tangled and knotted that words fail me, even the ones I say to myself. So here I am, hiding behind my sunglasses, typing this quietly into my notes app, brushing tears away like I’m trying to erase the proof that I’m feeling too much in a world that insist we feel too little.

On the surface, I pretend it’s nothing. But inside there’s a roaring ache, a silent scream begging for someone to truly see me. Really see me. And yet, at the same time, I hope no one does. Because what would I even say? How do i explain the weight I carry in my chest, like a second heart, that’s heavier, colder and far too still?

Lately, I’ve been shrinking, pulling away from connection, fading from the online world, shutting down conversation before they begin. I ghost the world before it has the chance to ghost me. Maybe I thought if I made myself small enough, invisible enough, I’d be safe from disappointment, from rejection. But the truth is: I already feel rejected. Already feel alone. Like I’ve drifted off into a void, where no one can reach me. No hands reaching in. No voices calling me home. Just me and the echo of my own silence.

And here’s the thing: as someone who has spent most of their life trying to wriggle free from perfectionism, this unraveling feels like a paradox. I know I did this to myself, out of fear, shame and a deep seated belief that unless I am polished and put together, I don’t deserve to be seen. But right now? I’m anything but perfect. I’m quietly falling apart in public, surrounded by strangers lost in their own world, while I clutch at the threads of myself with nothing but breath and will.

And maybe the hardest part is this: I don’t know if i want someone to rescue me or if I just want to keep sinking. Not because I want to disappear completely entirely but because disappearing feels simpler, easier than trying to give shape to a pain that refuses to be named. It’s not just one thing. It’s the quiet accumulation of: unsent words, unmet needs and the things I never said before it was too late.

So here’s a gentle reminder: that even the strongest souls grow weary. Please, check in on your kind friends. Check in on the ones who give so much of themselves to others, the ones who seem to open and steady but who might be quietly unraveling beneath the surface.

Sending love,

B