The tug between what’s urgent now and what’s needed for the long road ahead drains the strength I try so hard to protect.
I reach for healthier ways to cope, to not weigh myself down, but still, I stumble. The path dims, and I lose my way.
When someone tells me, “You’re strong,” I pause. I rewind my memories, trying to see what they see. How am I strong when I can’t rebuild myself every time the restlessness returns? When I still lean on others to pull me through?
In silence, my thoughts swell dark, heavy, and frightening. And yet I must learn to live inside that loneliness. I ache for the warmth of those moments I once held close, but I know I must endure without them, maybe until the very end.
It feels like being cast into an ocean of darkness, unsure if any light exists beyond. Does it?
I shouted at mom to hear my fears, to guide me out; was that wrong? Maybe not. Maybe it’s time I stop leaning on shoulders and learn to stand on my own.
I’m grateful for those who care, but I can’t let my pain weigh them down.
So I smile, hiding the worry beneath. I laugh, I cry, but deep inside, I tremble at being judged. Living a lone life is not easy.
I fear the world. I hold myself back.
I know it hurts me more, but I’m not sure if I have it in me anymore…
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