Lokah was the kind of guy who smiled even when it hurt.People shouted at him, threw words that could cut, and he'd just nod like it was fine. Pretend it didn't get to him. But the truth? Every word stayed. It stuck in his chest like splinters, piling up till it was too heavy to breathe.
He wasn't the strong type — not in the loud, flashy way people liked to see. He didn't fight back, didn't argue. He just took things, let them pass, told himself, "It's okay. They didn't mean it."He always thought it was better to lose a little piece of himself than lose a person completely.
When people left, Lokah blamed himself. Every single time.He'd replay everything — what he said, what he did, what he could've done better.He'd think, "Maybe I'm just too much. Maybe I'm not enough."And then he'd shrink, trying to fit into someone else's idea of "enough."
But the thing was — Lokah wasn't bad. Just lost.He had a soft heart, the kind that believed people were good if you just stayed long enough to see it. The kind that saw storms and still said, "Maybe it'll stop raining soon."That kind of heart — it breaks easy.
He ran after people who looked "cool." The ones who walked with confidence, who spoke loud, who made the world look small.He thought if he could stand beside them, he'd finally feel strong.But he forgot — strength doesn't rub off like cologne. It's something you have to find inside.
He left behind everything that once mattered to him — his goals, his dreams, his hobbies, all the little things that used to make him feel alive.He just wanted to belong.He wanted someone to look at him and say, "You're enough just like that."
But that never happened. The "cool ones" left, just like everyone else. They didn't even look back. And there he was again — standing in the same empty place, holding nothing but the silence they left behind.
There were people, though — quiet ones — who told him from the start, "You're not seeing yourself right, Lokah. You've got something special. You just don't believe it yet."But he couldn't hear it back then.He thought they were just being nice. He thought kindness was pity.So he ignored them, and kept chasing the noise.
When it all fell apart, Lokah didn't even have anger. Just emptiness.He stopped talking much. He stopped trying.Nights became long, and the world felt gray. He'd scroll through messages, old chats, just to feel something familiar.
Sometimes he wondered if maybe he was broken — like there was some missing part inside him everyone else had.Every choice he made alone felt like a mistake, every step without someone beside him felt wrong.He didn't trust himself. Not his feelings, not his judgment, nothing.
But then, one night — somewhere between tired eyes and blurry thoughts — he remembered a voice. Someone he once trusted had told him,"Even if you fall, at least it's your step, Lokah."
He whispered the words to himself again and again, like they might mean something if he said them enough.And maybe they did.
He stood by his window that night, rain sliding down the glass. The city outside looked like it was crying with him.But in all that silence, something small shifted inside him — not strength exactly, but maybe a spark of wanting it.
He looked at his reflection — messy hair, tired eyes, but still breathing.He said quietly, "They all left. But I'm still here. Guess that's something."
He smiled. A small one. Weak, but real.It wasn't peace. It wasn't confidence.But it was the first time he'd seen himself without hating what he saw.
He pulled his hoodie up and stepped out into the night. The rain had stopped. The streets glowed under the faint light of dawn.He didn't know where he was going. For once, that felt okay.
He walked slow, each step uncertain but his own.No more chasing people. No more begging to be seen.Just walking — for himself this time.
And maybe that's where it begins —not with strength, not with victory,but with someone like Lokah,finally deciding he's worth standing up for.