I do not know how long I stood there after it happened.
There was no light.
No darkness, either.
Just… silence.
Not the kind that presses down on your chest like guilt, or the one that rings in your ears after a scream.
This was a different silence. One that felt like the world had paused — not broken, not dead — just… resting.
Maybe I was, too.
For the first time in a long time, there was no voice whispering at the edges of my mind, no buried scream crawling up my throat.
No mocking laughter from a shadowed self.
No self loathing disguised as cleverness.
No illusion of control held together by sarcasm and emotional duct tape.
Just me.
Not "Null-Jay."
Not "Lazy Genius."
Not "That one guy who always looks like he's about to nap through the apocalypse."
Just Jay.
All of me.
The parts I liked.
The parts I ran from.
The ones I laughed off, and the ones I buried like broken glass beneath snow.
And you know what?
It was heavy.
It was terrifying.
It was… peaceful.
