this is what it's like. each of us is alone with thoughts, fears and anxieties in a room

this is what it's like. each of us is alone with thoughts, fears and anxieties in a room. trying to understand the individual apocalypse happening in someone's heart is trying to see all of them through the keyhole, because people adapt to hardship differently, they process emotions differently. even if they open the door and let you in, even if they share their white whale of fears with you, rip their flesh open and let you see the claws of their minds and eclipse of their hearts or manage to articulate the view from their abyss, you will still be looking through the fucking keyhole, because what you see of people is only fragments, tiny curated universes of them filtered through your own experience. All what one can do is listen, really listen to their howls, and maybe, sometimes, howl too.