LittleTooMuch: I ate something even though my brain tried to start a riot.
Three dots appear immediately.
NumberEleven: i’m proud of you.
I exhale slow.
LittleTooMuch: Don’t make it a thing.
NumberEleven: i won’t.
NumberEleven: i’m just saying it.
Warmth hits my chest—annoying and real.
I type the truth.
LittleTooMuch: Someone helped me today without making it a thing.
LittleTooMuch: It was weird.
LittleTooMuch: And…good.
A pause.
NumberEleven: good. keep that person.
My stomach flips. Keep that person, like it’s possible. Like it’s allowed.
My fingers hover.
LittleTooMuch: He made it easier.
LittleTooMuch: He gave me fewer choices.
Three dots.
NumberEleven: that’s smart.
NumberEleven: too many choices feels like…drowning.
My breath catches. Not because it’s proof. Because it’s accurate. Because it’s how it feels.
My brain tries to sprint anyway, so I force humor like a leash.
LittleTooMuch: Are you stalking me?
NumberEleven: yes. i’m hiding in your vents.
I laugh—real this time, quiet into my pillow.
LittleTooMuch: Ew. Stop.
NumberEleven: fine. i’ll move to the ceiling fan.
I shake my head, smiling.
LittleTooMuch: Why are you like this?
