PEOPLE | Krishna

The People on the Couch

I listen for a living.
Not just to words - to pauses, contradictions, the things people almost say and then swallow.

I left a life that looked stable. Not because it was wrong.
Because it stopped asking me questions.

People think I’m calm.

What they don’t see is how much noise I carry quietly at work, at home, in love.

I don’t believe people need fixing.

I believe they need space to look at themselves without being rushed.

I’m still learning to do that for myself.

I’ve always been the dependable one.
The man who shows up.
The man people trust with responsibility.

Strength was expected of me.
So I learned to perform it well.

When I made one mistake - not a small one - everything I believed about myself cracked at once.

My fear is simpler and heavier: what if the worst thing I did isn’t an exception
but a truth about me?

I didn’t mean to create two versions of myself.
It just… happened.

The world is loud.
Faster than I can process.
Screens make it manageable.

The world feels loud. Silence feels unfamiliar.

I’m still figuring out which version of me is meant to last once the noise settles.

Everyone keeps telling me to “disconnect”.
No one asks what I’m trying to survive.

I know who I am. That’s never been the problem.

I don’t depend. I don’t collapse.

But strength, practiced alone for too long, starts to feel like armor.

I don’t want to be rescued.
I don’t want to surrender myself either.

I just want to know if it’s possible to be held without becoming smaller.