Clara opened her eyes at dawn, the pale morning light creeping through the poorly closed curtains. A new day was beginning, but she felt nothing but the overwhelming weight of anguish and despair. Every morning was the same ritual: an incessant struggle against the dark thoughts that invaded her mind even before she left her bed. She felt exhausted, not from lack of sleep, but from the constant battle with her own inner demons.

"You're useless," a voice whispered in her head. "No one cares about you. Why continue?"

The memories of the tragic events that had marked her life were running in a loop in her mind. The faces of her lost loved ones seemed to haunt her, each memory reviving a pain that never seemed to subside. Clara knew she couldn't go on like this, but she felt trapped in an endless cycle of despair and loneliness. Her friends and family had drifted away over time, unable to understand or help. Alone, she no longer had anyone to confide in or to lighten the burden of her suicidal thoughts.

Yet, despite everything, a part of her refused to give in. A small spark of hope, however tenuous, lingered somewhere in the recesses of her soul. That morning, like all the others, Clara decided to get up. She put on a cozy old sweater and headed for the kitchen. Every gesture, every movement required a colossal effort from her.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot tea in her hands, Clara stared at an invisible point in front of her. "You are a burden," the voice continued. "You will never be happy."

She knew she had to find a way to survive the day. Her gaze fell on her phone, abandoned on the table the day before. She grabbed it and opened the music app. While browsing her playlists, a song caught her attention: "You Don't Know" by Katelyn Tarver. She had heard it dozens of times, but that morning the words seemed to speak directly to her heart. She pressed "play" and closed her eyes, letting the music envelop her. The first notes echoed in the room, and for the first time in a long time, Clara felt something other than pain. The lyrics of the song, imbued with melancholy but also with hope, penetrated her mind like a breath of fresh air.

"You don't know what it's like
You don't know what it's like
To be shattered and hold the pieces in the palm of your hand."

She listened to the song on a loop, clinging to each word like a lifeline. Gradually, a kind of calmness settled in her. It wasn't a magic solution, but it was a start. Music became her ally, a first step towards light in the darkness.

Clara got up from the table, the song still playing, and headed for the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, her tired eyes reflecting the pain of her sleepless nights. But that morning, she also saw something else: a glimmer of determination.

On the walls of her bathroom were pasted dozens of motivational quotes that she had accumulated over time. "Strength does not come from physical ability, but from an indomitable will," Mahatma Gandhi. "What does not kill us makes us stronger," Friedrich Nietzsche. "Believe in yourself and everything is possible," Audrey Hepburn. These sentences had become mantras that she hoped to internalize. Yet that morning, those words seemed empty. They evoked nothing in her, as if they had become distant echoes, unable to pierce the veil of her tormented mind.

With mechanical slowness, Clara got ready to go to work. She combed her hair, washed her face, and applied a little makeup to hide the traces of her restless nights. With every gesture, she avoided meeting her own gaze in the mirror. The reflection of her own eyes sent back an image that she could no longer bear to see. "You're pathetic," the voice breathed. "You're pretending, but you're broken inside."

Clara put on her work clothes, absentmindedly adjusting her uniform. The daily routine was both a burden and a blessing, allowing her to focus on something other than her own thoughts, even if only for a moment. Before leaving the bathroom, she took one last look at the quotes. One day, she hoped, they would regain their power.

As she left her apartment, the song "You Don't Know" was still ringing in her ears. It would be a long and difficult day, but Clara was ready to fight, one note at a time. Thus began Clara's journey, a journey where music, words, and the search for lost hope would become her weapons against the shadow that threatened to engulf her.