"Don't mind me sharing this, I got lot of my mind"
I smile where it’s expected.
I disappear where it matters
Everyone thinks they know me
because I answer, because I nod,
because I’m still here
They don’t see how much effort
goes into looking normal.
They don’t hear the noise
that starts when the room goes quiet
I am always healing from something
that never makes it into conversation.
Something that doesn’t look serious enough
to be taken seriously
They call it weakness
because it doesn’t live in their body.
They call it exaggeration
because they only see the surface
I learned early
that explaining myself changes nothing,
so I learned how to stay silent
without actually leaving.
Being alive takes more from me
than anyone ever notices.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just slowly. Repeatedly.
I don’t fall apart.
I pause.
I hold myself together
with crossed hands and unfinished sentences.
If I’m quiet,
it’s because I already said too much
to people who never listened
(Only 4 people)
The smile is public.
The damage is private.
Nothing about this is poetic.
Nothing about this is brave.
It’s just what happens
when you’re seen enough to be judged
but never enough to be understood.
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