Karina Martinez

​

Have you ever wished for something? You'll probably say yes. But have you wished for something with every fiber of your being, the kind of wish you hope for every night, every morning, at every birthday, every shooting star?

Well, I have one, or at least I used to. Until that night.

​

It was my 18th birthday, an important night in every aspect of a girl's life; now you have freedom, you can go out with your friends if you want. But that night, I didn't ask for freedom, I asked for something deeper, something I had wanted, something I had carried in my heart for as long as I could remember.

​

I arrived home from college. I wanted nothing more than to fall into dreams that promised something better than reality. Instead, I made my way to the cupcake waiting for me in the kitchen, placed the candles on top, and closed my eyes as the candles flickered in front of me, their glow illuminating the loneliness of my apartment. And with every ounce of longing, I whispered the same wish I had made a thousand times before: “I never want to feel pain again.”

​

It was simple. Innocent, even. After all, who wouldn't want to be free of pain? The aching loneliness, the heartbreak, the death of family members, the physical pangs and emotional bruises, gone. Gone, like dry leaves blown away by the wind, leaving no trace, no chance of return. I wanted to live without suffering, without the weight of pain pressing against my chest. That night I went to sleep, hoping that this time, the universe, God, whoever it was, would listen to me.

​

And that happened, the next morning I woke up with an unusual feeling, nothingness. The feeling of being but not having. Of existing but not living. Seeing but not feeling. Living life without a soul to excite me with the opportunities it offered. For me. At least at the beginning. Walking through the city without feeling hunger, sadness, or fear felt liberating. Who would like to live with the oppression feeling of pain, sadness, anger in the chest? Life won’t be easier when no one feels anything? 

​

Days went by. My routine remained the same. But I had changed. The first, lovely thrill out of nowhere turned into a nightmare, a curse. For I soon realized what my desire had meant to feel joy, either. Hanging out with my friends, it was a constant challenge to pretend, to pretend to laugh, to pretend to smile, to pretend to feel, joy was something everyone felt but me. There was no excitement about the opportunities that began to present themselves to me. The laughter of the children, the warmth of the sun, the excitement of a new day... it all seemed to me like watching a movie in silence. I had wished for peace, but instead, I had erased myself.

​

At first, I convinced myself that this was the best way. The only way. No heartbreak, no pain. But as the days bled into weeks, I realized I was merely existing, not living.

​

This was the nothingness I'd condemned myself to. Watching my friends with hollow eyes, nodding as they spoke, laughing as they laughed, but not really feeling anything. The food tasted like nothing. Music was just noise. Even the things I'd once loved—books, paintings, late-night conversations—felt distant, like memories of someone else. 

The worst part was when my best friend cried in front of me, telling me how much she missed me, how I felt... gone. She asked me if something was wrong, if I needed help. I wanted to comfort her, to feel something, anything—but there was only silence in my chest. I was empty, and she couldn’t see it, but feel it; something I couldn’t.

That night, I stood in front of the same cupcake, the same candles, and I did something I hadn't done in weeks—I closed my eyes and made a wish.

​

"I want it back."

Nothing happened.

For the first time since that night, I felt something close to fear.

I stared at the flickering flames, desperate. I had been so foolish. Pain was never the enemy—it was proof I was alive. That I felt.

​

So I whispered again, my voice shaking, "Please... I want it back."

The candlelight wavered. My breath caught.

Then, as if someone had been listening all along, a sudden, sharp ache bloomed in my chest. It wasn’t unbearable, just a small pang, like the first drop of rain before a storm. My fingers tingled, my heart raced. And for the first time in weeks, I felt tears burning in my eyes.

​

Relief.

​

I took a deep, trembling breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt human again.