15 Feb The Weight of Silence

I used to think rock bottom was just an expression. A place people talked about when they were down on their luck, but never a real, tangible thing. Now I know better. Rock bottom has a smell—stale beer and cheap takeout. It has a sound—silence broken by the hum of the air conditioner in an empty home and the occasional crack of knuckles against drywall.

And it has a feeling. It’s the cold weight that settles into your chest when the job’s gone, the house is gone, and the person you thought would stay forever walks out the door without looking back.

This is where I am now.

My name is Michael, and this is my story.

I had it all once. A good job, a house, and Rachel—the love of my life. Rachel was beautiful, the kind of person who could light up a room just by being in it. She had this way of seeing through all the noise and pulling the best out of me, even when I doubted myself. She was the reason I ended up at that company in the first place, pushing me to apply when I was content with less. She believed in me, always said I had so much more potential than I gave myself credit for.

And she was right. I became a senior manager at one of the top ten AI tech companies in the entire country. It wasn’t just about the paycheck, though the money was more than I ever imagined I’d make. My job was to manage a team of developers working on advanced machine learning systems, streamlining algorithms to make them more efficient. My role was niche—part problem-solver, part strategist. I had this knack for taking complex AI models and figuring out how to optimize them, making them faster, smarter, more intuitive.

But it wasn’t just about the code. I always found ways to make life easier for my team. I built tools that automated the most tedious parts of their work, freeing them up to focus on the big stuff. I was the guy they came to when things got tough. I wasn’t just another manager handing down orders; I was in the trenches with them, solving problems side by side.

We were working on cutting-edge AI systems for predictive analytics, autonomous processes, even smart technologies for healthcare. It was the kind of work that could change industries, maybe even the world. And I loved it. I felt important, like I was contributing to something that mattered.

But then, out of nowhere, the company was bought out by some massive conglomerate. Overnight, everything shifted. They didn’t care about the years I’d put in, the systems I’d improved, or the team I’d led. To them, I was just another name on a list—another cost they didn’t want to carry. So, they let me go. Just like that, it was all gone. The future I’d been building with Rachel, the career I thought was untouchable—it all slipped through my fingers.

* * * * * *

I lost the house, a four-bedroom, two-bathroom dream home I could no longer afford. And after that, everything spiraled. My truck, brand new and shiny just months ago, became a reminder of everything slipping away.

Desperate, I stayed up for twenty-four hours straight, submitting one-click job applications to every tech company I could think of. But they were all connected to the same conglomerate that fired me. No one would even give me an interview. My skills didn’t matter anymore. My old coworkers and I were even in a group chat, talking about how much this all sucked. Some filed for bankruptcy, some had to move across the country back to their parents’ basements, and some fell into hard liquor and drugs. The world had moved on without us.

In the end, the only job I could get was at a generic grocery store down the street. I had to wear a uniform that smelled of stale produce, dealing with rude customers who looked right through me. And my boss—he treated me like I was worthless, like I’d never managed million-dollar projects or led a team of brilliant engineers.

Rachel… God, I felt so embarrassed. She’d been a stay-at-home fiancée, supporting me as I worked my way up. Now, in this tough economy, she had to get a job too. I needed her help with the bills because my paycheck wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage or the truck payments. I hated it. Hated that the love of my life had to pick up the slack for me, the man who once had everything in the palm of his hand.

But Rachel didn’t care. She didn’t complain. She still believed in me, like I could somehow climb out of this pit I’d fallen into. She kept saying things would turn around, that I just had to be patient. But every day, it felt like I was falling further away from the life we were supposed to build together.

* * * * * *

Then came the worst day at work. I was already hanging by a thread, but that day… it broke.

I was stocking shelves when I noticed a customer hiding behind an aisle corner, fumbling with a bottle of water. He deliberately poured it on the floor, then threw himself down like an actor in some bad infomercial. I knew exactly what he was doing, and when I approached him, he started groaning, holding his back, claiming he’d slipped.

I tried to protest, to tell my boss the truth, that the guy had done it to himself.

“It should be on the cameras,” I said.

But the cameras were so ancient, they only recorded in 240p. The footage was useless, just a blurry mess of pixels. You couldn’t tell if he slipped or if he’d fallen from the sky.

My boss, though, didn’t care. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. He took the customer’s side, yelling at me in front of everyone, telling me to take the blame or else I’d lose my job.

“Apologize to the man,” he barked. “Or you’re done here.”

The customer smirked, demanding money for “compensation” or threatening to sue me personally. That’s when I saw it—the wink my boss gave him, like this whole thing was some kind of setup. It was a game to them. A scam.

And that’s when I snapped.

“You two can go fuck yourselves!” I spat, my voice loud enough for the whole store to hear.

“I’m sick of this shit! I QUIT!”

The customers froze, watching as I stormed out, leaving my boss standing there, red-faced and humiliated.

But quitting didn’t make anything better. If anything, it pushed me deeper into the pit. No matter how many times I tried—job applications, interviews—it didn’t matter. I was drowning in silence.

When I got home that day, I was seething with anger. I clenched my fists, trying to hold it all in, but it bubbled over. I punched the wall, the drywall cracking beneath my bloody knuckles. Then I screamed into my pillow, muffling the sound of my rage, swearing like a sailor who just lost his ship. The anger kept building, tearing through me like a storm.

I didn’t even realize Rachel had come home early.

She must’ve seen the holes in the walls, the bed a mess from where I’d thrown things, and my head filled with loud sounds, so I didn’t hear her. She tried to touch my shoulder, tried to calm me down. But when she did, I reacted—too fast, too hard. My hand lashed out, and I struck her across the face.

The sound of my hand connecting with her cheek was louder than anything else in that room. The loud sounds were all in my head. Rachel… she stumbled back, dizzy, eyes wide with fear, and fell to the floor. I stood there, frozen, horrified at what I’d done.

“Rach…” I whispered, my throat tight. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

She put her hand up, gently stopping me. Her eyes filled with tears, but she tried to hold them back.

“Michael,” she said, her voice shaky, “I know you didn’t mean to. I know this isn’t you. But I… I can’t do this anymore. I’m scared, and I don’t know how to help you.”

I took a step toward her, but she pulled back slightly, her body tense. The realization hit me like a brick—she wasn’t just scared of us, she was scared of me.

“Please,” I begged, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

But Rachel just shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be at my parents’ for a while. Until you… until you can get yourself together.” She stood up, avoiding my gaze, and wiped her face. She walked toward the door, stopping only for a moment. “I still love you, but I can’t stay here. Not like this. Goodbye, Michael.”

I wanted to say something, to beg her not to leave, but the words caught in my throat. I watched her tearfully gather a few things—her keys, her purse—and walk out the door.

I just stood there, surrounded by the broken walls, the wreckage of everything we’d built. And now, the love of my life… was gone.

I was alone.

* * * * * *

It’s been three days since Rachel left through that front door. Seeing her leave with tears in her eyes, and seeing droplets hit the floor, just broke me.

I walked into the bathroom, and I saw a stranger in the mirror. I really thought it was a monster.

I can’t keep doing this… anymore…

I’m broken. I’ve lost everything—my job, my house, my father, Rachel. My mental health is… gone.

I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Every day feels like a step closer to the edge, and I don’t have anything left to hold onto. I was cleaning up the mess in the bedroom, and that’s when I saw it.

The rope.

Dad’s old fiber rope, the one he left behind when he helped me move the couch last year. He’s gone now. Cancer is a son of a bitch. He was with me at my first breath, and I stood by him during his last. But this… this rope was still here. A part of him. A way out.

Maybe this is how it ends for me. Maybe this is how I make it all stop. No more pain, no more failure, no more shame. Just… nothing.

The thought is so clear now. I can see it. I can feel it. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I have control over something.

I won’t hurt anyone else. I won’t be a burden anymore. Maybe… maybe this is the only thing I can fix.

I reach for the rope. Maybe… this is how it ends.

I had no idea how to do this, so I just mimicked what I saw from those movies. My master bedroom ceiling has those sturdy crisscross wooden logs. I climbed it once to remove some spider webs for Rachel. I wasn’t sure how to tie the rope, so after a quick YouTube search, I figured it out.

This entire time, I wasn’t afraid of the outcome because… I knew what was going to happen. I didn’t waste any time. I climbed on top of the bed, climbed on the wooden logs to adjust the rope. I made sure my final thoughts were of my mom, Dad, and Rachel.

“I’m so sorry.”

Encountering Death

Darkness…

Nothingness…

Now, I stand in a void so deep it feels like the universe itself is gone. My voice echoes, hollow.

“HELLO?”

“Why am I still here? I can hear myself.”

“Where am I?”

“Wait… What was I doing? Oh… right.”

“What is this place?”

Then, the blackness gives way.

* * * * * *

I’m standing in a forest.

“What is going on?”

The trees are tall but resemble a wavy, thick shadow. Their branches stretch out like skeletal hands, clawing at the night sky. There’s no wind, no sound except my echoing footsteps. Just silence. It’s oppressive, pressing down on my chest like the weight of every mistake I’ve ever made.

I don’t know how I got here. I honestly don’t remember why I’m here, but my feet start moving as if I knew where to go. I press forward, deeper into the darkness.

Ahead of me, through the tangled branches and the endless shadows, I see something that makes my stomach drop—a single light cutting through the void.

It’s my home. The light was coming from a lamp on my nightstand.

There it stands, isolated in the middle of the trees like it’s been plucked from the real world and placed in this shadow realm. The bedroom window glows faintly, casting an eerie light on the dark forest floor. My heart begins to pound, faster and faster, an icy dread creeping up my spine.

I shouldn’t go in. I know I shouldn’t, but my feet move on their own, dragging me toward the door.

I don’t even have to open it; the door creaks wide, like it’s been waiting for me, welcoming me into something terrible.

Inside, the air feels cold, thick with the smell of antiseptic and something else—something metallic and bitter that stings the back of my throat. My living room looks the same, untouched.

Then I notice a man in a badged uniform leaning on the doorway of my bedroom. He’s not facing me.

“Umm… excuse me. You’re in my house. Can I help you with something?”

The man doesn’t turn around to acknowledge me.

“Excuse me? Hello?”

I try to tap him on the shoulder, but I can’t budge him. He stands still. I look over his shoulder to see what he’s looking at, and my eyes land on the center of the bedroom. My breath catches in my chest.

I see it. It was… me.

My lifeless body on the floor, being held by… a distraught Rachel.

My lips quiver. I want to scream, but my voice is trapped in my throat, strangled by the horror of what I’m seeing. I step closer, trembling.

“This can’t be real. This isn’t real…”

It’s a dream, a nightmare, something I can wake up from. I have to wake up.

Rachel is on the floor, holding my discarded body like a doll, sobbing into her hands. Her shoulders shake with every heartbroken gasp, her beautiful face twisted in agony. The EMTs move, standing around my body, their faces expressionless, like they’ve done this a thousand times before. They don’t care that it’s me, that my life is gone, that I am gone.

I notice the police in the corner of the bedroom. They are talking in hushed tones, probably discussing the paperwork, the logistics of what comes next.

But all I see is Rachel.

I reach for her, my hand trembling, desperate to touch her, to tell her I didn’t mean it.

“Rachel… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, but it feels like screaming.

It’s deafening in this silent room. My hand hovers just above her shoulder, hesitating. What if she turns around and sees me? Will she forgive me? Will she understand?

I have to try. I can’t let this be the last thing she remembers of me—broken, lost, and taken by an old fiber rope.

I close the distance, my fingers barely brushing her, and—

Boom.

She vanishes. Just like that. Disappears like smoke blown away by the wind. One second she’s there, solid and real, and the next… gone. Gone. Like she was never there at all.

“No… no, no, no, no, no!” I scream, stumbling back.

My voice echoes in the emptiness, bouncing off the walls and the dark corners of the room. Panic rises in my chest like a tidal wave. I claw at the air where she was, grasping at nothing, my mind racing. “Rachel! Please! Come back! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I didn’t—”

But… she’s not coming back. I can feel it in my bones. She’s gone, and there’s no getting her back. My legs give out beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, staring up at the corpse—my corpse.

I bury my face in my hands, choking on the guilt, the regret, the unbearable weight of what I’ve done. This was supposed to be my escape, my way out of the pain, but instead, I’m trapped here, stuck in this hell where everything I love slips through my fingers. Where Rachel is gone forever, and I can’t even touch her one last time.

“Rachel… I’m sorry,” I whisper again, but the words feel empty now. Useless.

And then, I hear a voice. Low and steady, coming from behind me, shaking me to my core. “If you’re so sorry… why did you do it if you knew the outcome?”

I whirl around, and there he stands—an ominous figure cloaked in shadow. The darkness seems to cling to him like a shroud. He’s terrifying, not in the way of a monster lunging at you, but in his stillness, his absolute certainty. He belongs here, like he’s always been a part of this place. His bony jaw moves slowly, the only part of him that shifts. It’s not just thin skin—it’s actual bone.

“Who… who are you?” I stammer, my voice barely a whisper, my hands trembling.

“I am called by many names,” he says, his voice calm, almost gentle, yet full of authority. “Some hate me, others glorify me. But you, Michael, know me well… all too well. I am Death.”

“Death… No, no… you’re not real! You’re just in my head!” I shout, stepping back, my feet heavy with fear.

Death steps closer, moving without sound or motion. He is more like a shadow than a man, shifting like smoke drifting across the room.

“Real or not, you’re here, aren’t you? You made the choice, Michael. You thought it would end your pain. You thought it was the only escape.” He pauses, his voice unwavering. “But it wasn’t the answer.”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “I didn’t have a choice!” I yell, my voice breaking.

“Everything was falling apart—my job, my house… Rachel left me. Dad… he’s gone. I was nothing. I had nothing left. What else was I supposed to do? Just keep living through the same misery, over and over?”

Death looks at me, his gaze piercing through my defenses, though his eyes are just darkness.

“You had life, Michael. Breath in your lungs. Time. Hope. But you let the weight of the world convince you otherwise. You chose to end it, thinking it would solve everything. And now, you stand amidst the consequences of that choice.”

“Consequences?!” My voice rises, filled with pain and rage. “I didn’t want this! You think I wanted any of this? My father is gone. Rachel’s gone. My work—years and years of devotion—gone. What was the point when no one cared? When no one saw me?”

Death doesn’t flinch. He simply stands there, listening, letting my words wash over him. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, almost sad.

“It wasn’t about them, Michael. You made the decision long before Rachel left. You allowed the darkness to settle in, and it fed on you. Pain blinded you, but pain does not excuse you from the gift of life. There is always a way forward, even if you cannot see it.”

I laugh, bitter and hollow. “Forward? There was no forward! I applied to a thousand jobs! No one wanted me. No one saw me!” My voice cracks, a desperate howl escaping my lips. “JUST GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Death’s gaze remains steady. He lowers his chin, as if disappointed. Then he speaks. “Be careful what you wish for, Michael.”

* * * * * *

Suddenly, everything goes dark. The ground beneath me vanishes, and I am floating in a void. Endless, silent, weightless. I see stars far away—galaxies that stretch into eternity—but I cannot reach them. I feel like I’ve been here for hours, maybe days. Time has no meaning. It’s just nothingness.

I try to speak, but my voice doesn’t carry. The silence stretches on, crushing me. Fear starts to bubble inside my chest, and I begin to scream. No words, just pure, desperate cries for help. But nothing comes. There’s no one to hear me. No one cares.

After an eternity of screams, I break. I sob, my tears floating away from my face, lost in this abyss. “Rachel… I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry that I failed you… I failed everyone.”

The darkness shifts, and suddenly, I am back. I’m lying on the floor of my bedroom. I can see the ceiling, the familiar holes in the wall.

“GAH! …I’m okay? What the…” My heart pounds, hope and confusion mixing within me.

No way… Was I dreaming?

“Rachel… RACHEL!” I scramble to my feet, my legs still shaky, and I burst out of my bedroom door.

But as soon as I swing it open, I freeze.

Standing there, massive and unyielding, is Death, his cloaked figure towering over me. I flinch and fall backward, my eyes widening at the sight of the noose still hanging from the ceiling. My body goes cold with dread.

“No… no, no, no, no… this isn’t real… PLEASE, NO!”

Death steps closer, his voice soft yet commanding. “It was not your job to be seen by the world. Your worth was never theirs to measure. The greatest mistake you made was allowing the world’s rejection to become your own.”

“What?” I ask, barely breathing.

Death’s voice resonates, filling the room. “You spoke of being sorry, Michael! Sorry for failing Rachel!”

My eyes widen. “Y-Y-you heard me in that… that NOTHINGNESS?”

Death lowers his hood, and I gasp. His face is all bone, hollow eyes, but there’s something else there. A strange, terrifying beauty. His eyes are dark sockets, yet within them, galaxies swirl. I can see the stars I had just been floating in, a vastness that has no end.

“Was I… in your eyes?” I ask, my voice trembling, the realization dawning.

“Yes,” Death says simply.

I shake my head, my voice breaking. “You don’t understand. You’re Death. What could you possibly know about life?”

Death’s head tilts, and he steps closer, leaning in, his voice almost a whisper. “More than you, it seems. Life and Death are bound together at the exact same time. Why else do you think I am here? There are rules, Michael. Life begins, and I end it. I am the end. But you sought to break that order by taking what was not yours to end. Self-killing is forbidden, and the punishment is eternal.”

I swallow hard, staring up at him, my voice coming out in a croak. “But isn’t Death evil? Because you… you don’t seem evil.”

Death’s eyes—those swirling, infinite eyes—don’t waver. “Death isn’t evil, Michael. Death just… is.”

I fall to my knees, tears streaming down my face.

“Then where’s God in all this? Where was He when I needed Him? If life is such a gift, why didn’t He save me?” My voice cracks, a question that had burned inside me for so long.

Death’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You question God, but did you ever call out to Him? Did you cry for help, or did you bury yourself in anger and despair? You built walls so high, Michael, that even His light could not reach you. Yet even now, you are not forsaken. That’s why I am here, Michael. If you believe in nothing… you go… to nothing… and look where you are now. There are rules, but mercy still exists for those who seek it.”

“Mercy?” I spit out, my voice cracking. “Where was mercy when everything was taken from me?”

“Mercy comes to those who endure,” Death says softly. “You sought escape, not mercy. You refused to endure. Maybe I have something that will help you understand.”

The shadows around us twist and warp. I stand my ground, ready for another trip into his eyes. I brace myself… and suddenly, I’m no longer alone.

I gasp as I see my father standing there, looking younger than he did the last time I saw him—healthier, like a vision from a time long lost.

“D-Dad?” I whisper, my heart shattering all over again.

He smiles, his warmth cutting through the cold of the room. “I’ve been waiting, son.”

“You… you’re here?” I stammer, tears flowing freely. “In purgatory?” I point at Death.

“I asked him to let me stay and wait for you,” my father says, looking at Death, then back at me. “I saw your future, Michael. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. You are meant for more. You’re supposed to touch the hearts of many.”

“What do you mean? I thought I was dead,” I choke out, confusion overwhelming me.

My dad kneels down in front of me, his eyes filled with sorrow. “That’s the thing, son… You’re not dead.”

“What? How am I here, then?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He takes a deep breath. “I saw what you were about to do, and I couldn’t let it end like that. I reached out to Death himself, and… he… agreed to bring you here, to show you what you’ve lost and what you still have back in life.”

Death’s voice echoes, low and steady, “You were meant to do great things, Michael. And your father asked me to consider giving you one last chance. But know this—if you return, you will carry the weight of this choice for the rest of your life. The gift of life is precious. Do not squander it again.”

I collapse, overwhelmed, the weight of my emotions too much to bear.

“I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to go back,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Death looks at me, his eyes still rapidly swirling with galaxies. “No one truly deserves life, Michael. But it is given nonetheless. Will you accept it?”

I look up at my father, his face full of love and hope. Tears stream down my face, my heart aching. “I… I will try… no… I will do better, Dad.”

Death nods slowly. “Then go, and live well. And remember… I am not your enemy. But I will come for you again when the time is right.”

The world around me begins to fade, and I can now see the stars in the ceiling of my bedroom. The stars and galaxies are heading towards me at full speed. Light has turned my room brighter than white—I cannot see, but I can hear my father’s voice… it is the last thing I hear, a whisper full of love, ”I believe in you, my dear son.”

I embrace my father for the last time. The darkness gives way to light, and I feel myself drifting, my body heavy as I return to the world I had tried to leave behind.

* * * * * *

I weakly awake, my arms trembling, feeling drained of all life. I… was still floating. The rope was still wrapped around my neck. I choked and struggled to breathe. I swayed gently in the dark. My chest burned, my vision blurred, and everything felt… off. Desperation kicked in… No… resolve! The will to live has taken over me. I immediately thought of something clever—the rope was old. If I applied enough tension, the rope would break.

I took action. I swung my body back and forth, using whatever strength I had left. Like a swing set at a kid’s playground. Every time I applied force downward, I suffocated even more, but I heard the rope tear. I needed to survive. My will was stronger than ever!

Right before I lost my vision… the rope finally snapped.

Thud.

I crashed into a stack of moving boxes. I raised my head, gasping for air, my whole body aching. My bones popped. I groaned.

It took what felt like forever to regain my senses. But I remembered everything. Everything that happened in limbo—with my father and Death itself.

If my dad knows I’ll be able to change my future, I must believe that.

When I finally got up, I noticed the mess I’d made. One of the boxes had been labeled “Mod Tech Company”—my old, well-paid job. Its contents were scattered across the floor—papers, files, pieces of my past. A picture frame of me and my beautiful fiancée.

My eyes landed on my work contract.

I don’t know why, but something made me pick it up. Maybe out of spite.

I started reading, flipping through the pages until I saw something I’d never noticed before.

“No way…”

I gently scratched my head, my brain kicking into gear. I was good at complex AI systems—I was sure I could figure something out here. So after reading everything, including the fine print, terms, and conditions—I’m glad I always saved a copy—I found something, a “Clawback Clause.”

It stated that if any financial fraud was uncovered, the executives would have to return every bonus and stock option they’d taken. My mind raced.

I remembered the whispers—how the CEO and his cronies had been manipulating the numbers for years. They’d stolen millions, and it was all there, hiding in plain sight.

They were never supposed to get away with it.

From that moment on, I knew what I had to do.

I built my case, gathered more evidence with my lawyer, and luckily, I met an anonymous whistleblower who was in direct contact with the CEO. They were the key to exposing everything.

Short story: The company had to pay back what they stole, and the corrupt execs were dragged to court and jailed.

And in the chaos, the board needed someone they could trust to lead the company back from the brink.

After many votes from the new board—persuaded by my old colleagues—they chose me.

I know how AI works, and it’s going to help millions.

* * * * * *

I started another company—it’s not just a mental health program, it’s something more. I don’t call it therapy because that word still carries too many barriers: the stigma around mental health, the lack of access, affordability, and the belief that we should handle our problems on our own.

So, I created something different. It’s more of a companion to humans who are mourning and not yet ready to move on. It’s an AI-based app called The Weight of Silence. It’s 100% free. The inspiration came from my father and Death.

I lost my father, but I found old recordings of his physical form and voice. I took those moments and fed them into the app. Now, when I need him most, I can hear and even see my dad again, offering advice just like he used to. It’s as if we’re having one more phone call, one more conversation.

And this isn’t just for me. Anyone can use it. People can hear their loved ones again, and with the help of AI, get advice on tackling life’s challenges or finding closure. This isn’t about replacing therapy—it’s about reaching out to those who feel as I once did… trapped, hopeless, ready to give up.

I made it my mission to heal the damage I caused to myself and those around me. To my beautiful wife, Rachel… you’re my rock, my grace. I love you, honey.

Now, as CEO, I’m not here just for the company, but for the people. For you. For all of us.

So, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get this moment on camera. I want the world, and the viewers on YouTube, to hear this story… because it matters.

I know what it’s like to hit rock bottom. Fair warning… this next part is graphic, but it’s important because it might help someone listening.

I nearly ended my life.

And when I did, I met Death face-to-face. He gave me a second chance.

And today, I’m here to tell you exactly what happened and how I got here on this stage, talking to you.

My name is Michael, and this is my story.