ClickWorldDaily ✍️ stories with soul.

Empathy isn’t infinite. Even truth can become trauma The news never stopped. It poured, constant and glowing, from your phone, your laptop, the television you left on in the background just for company. You watched wars unfold between dinner and dishes. You learned death tolls while brushing your teeth. You listened to economic collapse with a fork in your hand, chewing through someone else’s disaster. And somehow, you felt less with each update. You weren’t ignoring the world. You were carrying it. And it got heavy in places you didn’t know could ache. Your nervous system became the battlefield. Headlines turned into background noise, then into emotional static. A blur of fact and fear, piling into a quiet kind of numbness. This wasn’t apathy. It was exhaustion masquerading as awareness. Can awareness survive when it’s never allowed to rest? There’s a kind of violence in knowing too much. Not the loud kind. The slow one. The drip of detail after detail, tragedy after tragedy, until e...

Maybe you’re not starting over, just arriving again, with fewer lies The water boiled but no one noticed. It was the fifth time today. The kettle screamed and the room stayed silent. Not empty. Just unaware. Somewhere between thought and repetition, the moment lost its meaning. You paused, vaguely remembering something you'd never lived. A smell. A hallway. A name you almost said out loud. Is it possible to remember something from a life you never had? Some say memory is nothing more than the brain organizing static. Others believe it’s a leak in time. But sometimes, when the light hits a certain corner of your room just right, or a chord in a forgotten song tightens your chest, it doesn't feel like memory at all. It feels like return. Like you were someone else, once. And that someone is still here. Watching. Waiting. You feel it in your bones. Not pain. Something older. A weight that didn’t start with you. Like your soul is wearing clothes that have been mended too many times...