Because of everything he’d gone through, he became a stranger to himself.

  Something he couldn’t explain.

  Over time, he realized the war wasn’t with his illness, or even with therapy.

  No.

  The war was with himself.

  His own soul had disappointed him.

  It made him into a dimmed sun—something that once had warmth and love, but lost its glow.

  Outwardly, he looked the same.

  But inwardly? He was falling apart.

  He became obsessed with conflict and chaos.

  Even his friends jokingly called him “Hitler’s Grandson.”

  The strange thing was—he didn’t even know much about Hitler.

  Maybe just a story he’d seen online or on YouTube.

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  Ironically, he was once known for having a pure heart.

  He truly loved people.

  But there was one small problem…

  He saw everyone around him thriving in their relationships.

  Couples rising high on love.

  And him?

  He was in a relationship too—lucky or unlucky, he didn’t know.

  He did love her.

  But he had no idea…

  No idea how to express it.

  No idea how to hold on without hurting.

  Every time he tried to get closer,

  It felt like something inside him pulled away.

  His heart wanted warmth…

  But his mind had built walls—

  Thick, cold, and unforgiving.

  He’d look at her and feel guilty.

  Guilty for not being enough.

  Guilty for loving her and still pushing her away.

  There were nights he sat alone,

  Wishing she’d understand what he couldn’t explain.

  That he wasn’t distant because he didn’t care.

  He was distant because he cared too much… and was afraid.

  Afraid of ruining it.

  Afraid of losing her.

  Afraid of himself.

  He didn’t know how to be soft anymore.

  Didn’t know how to be vulnerable without feeling like a target.

  He craved healing.

  But healing required trust.

  And trust…

  Was something he lost long ago.