A YouTube Comment That Broke My Silence Within | by Cole | Sep, 2025

I was doom scrolling through YTShorts when I stumbled on a sad clip. It was about a guy who always seemed happy when surrounded by friends and family — but who had suddenly decided to disappear. As my eyes grew teary because I related so deeply, I scrolled down to the comments. The very first one stopped me from scrolling:

“Your demons will comfort you when no one else will. That’s why it’s so hard to get rid of them.”

Reading that sparked something in me.

I could see little pieces of myself, like how a spark of an ember lights up a tiny spot in the dark.
I could see how some people and experiences had shattered those pieces.
I could see how I’d hidden them away, afraid of hurting someone if they ever caught a glimpse.

Then my curiosity lit up: How did I get here? What happened? I had so many dreams, so why am I stuck at my lowest point until this day?

I began picking up the pieces I had buried, recalling almost every memory from my past — even the ones I could barely remember, or the ones I wanted to forget. Days of remembering, daydreaming, tarot readings, searching the web for answers about emotions, and writing down whatever surfaced, until I could no longer hide anything from myself. Slowly, I began to see more clearly. Actually, I began to feel it: why I hid those shattered pieces, why I tried so hard to erase them, and why I needed to piece them back together just to feel again.

Why? Because I thought if I could show the people around me I was happy, maybe they’d be happy too.

You see, I grew up close to my mother. At first, my mom, me, and four of my siblings lived peacefully in our hometown. Later, we were brought overseas to be with my father. We thought it would be great, finally being together with him. But issues arose between my father and mother: suspicious “friendships” with female workmates, financial insecurity, and his constant generosity toward others, even when we barely had enough for ourselves.

These issues grew, and stress and anxiety consumed my mother. She had no friends in that country; she only had us. So she vented to us — mostly me — about everything my father did or failed to do. I was only nine years old. Thinking about it now, it was so toxic for my little mind. I even told her she should just leave him. A child saying that to her own mother, it breaks me to remember.

That’s when I started teaching myself to carry the burdens of others. I thought if I showed happiness, maybe I could make her feel lighter. Maybe everyone else would, too. And so, I sacrificed myself little by little, shutting down my emotions to protect others from mine.

But really, all I was doing was building my demons. They became the survival tools I leaned on, the silence, the forced smiles, the self-erasure. They comforted me because they felt familiar, even protective. Yet in truth, they were keeping me invisible, unheard, and stuck.

And the truth is, I still struggle with this today. I still give too much of myself. I still carry burdens that aren’t mine. All because I hesitate to say no. The people around me have grown so accustomed to it that they hardly notice anymore — they can drop their weight on me without even a thank you, as if it’s my obligation. But the truth is, I don’t want to carry other people’s burdens anymore. I want to build something for myself, not just drag along a pile of luggage that was never mine to begin with.

Sometimes the heaviest battles are the ones no one else sees. You laugh, you help, you show up, but inside, you’re carrying pieces you’ve hidden even from yourself.

Now, I’m learning to see those demons for what they are. Not my friends. Not my protectors. Just armor I no longer need. And slowly, I’m piecing myself back together, not to erase what I’ve been through, but to finally feel whole again.

This is my first time writing here so here’s me when I was a baby… idek what to put. >:D