They say, "Why didn't you ask for help?" and I go quiet. Because it's not that I was hiding or trying to be strong. Depression doesn't come with instructions or the right words. It hollowed me out quietly, made everything feel heavy and unreal, like I was watching my life from far away. I didn't hide - I froze. I couldn't explain a pain that didn't scream, only lingered. From the outside, I looked fine; inside, I was dissolving. Every day I thought, maybe tomorrow I'll know how to say it, and every day I didn't. I wasn't choosing silence - depression took my voice. I needed help the most when I couldn't even recognize myself as someone worth saving.