You sit in rooms that feel too loud, even when no one is speaking. You wear a smile out in the crowd, but your hands are always shaking. You think you’re strange for feeling it, like something’s wrong inside, like everyone else found the map and you’re the one outside. But hearts like yours are everywhere, quiet and brave, still hiding. You’re not the only one, not even close. There’s more like you than anyone knows. Same late-night thoughts, same heavy air. More like you, out there somewhere. You scroll through lives that look so clean, like no one else is breaking. You measure yourself against a screen and think you must be faking. But every hallway holds a ghost of someone feeling small. You’re not the only quiet voice pressed up against a wall. There are others counting cracks in ceilings just like you. You’re not the only one, not even close. There’s more like you than anyone knows. Same silent rooms, same whispered fears. More like you, right here, right here. Across the street, across the street. Across the hall, across the hall. Behind closed doors, through bedroom walls. Across the town, across the town. Across the years, same hidden hopes, same hidden tears. You’re not the only one, not even close. You’re not the only one, not even close. Same kind of heart, same kind of light. More like you, holding on tonight. Not alone.