#cracked smiles

Someone said that to me today, a stranger.

A single sentence.

Twelve words.

And it hit me harder than anything else has in a long time.

Not because they were being cruel.

But because they were being honest.

There’s a strange silence that follows comments like that — a moment where the mask slips, even if you didn’t mean for it to, and suddenly you’re stood there feeling seen in a way you didn’t ask for. It’s like someone opened a window you’ve kept shut for years and let the cold air straight in.

I’ve spent a long time perfecting that “I’m fine” tone. The smile that doesn’t go too deep. The jokes that glide over everything. The light-heartedness that convinces most people I’m unbothered, unshaken, unfazed.

It’s easier that way.

Easier to make other people comfortable.

Easier to keep things moving.

Easier to stop everything from spilling out where it doesn’t belong.

But today, someone looked at me — really looked — and said they hoped I’d one day feel the happiness I act out so casually.

And the truth is… it stung because it wasn’t wrong.

I think most people carry a version of this. A rehearsed happiness to keep life tidy. A public face polished enough to keep questions at bay. We’re all a little guilty of performing strength even on the days we’re barely holding our own heads up.

But if someone sees through it… maybe it’s not a failure.

Maybe it’s proof we’re not as alone as we think.

Maybe it’s someone recognising the effort — not mocking it.

The thing is, I do try. I wake up every day and push forward. I laugh, I show up, I get through it. And yes, sometimes I pretend to be happier than I am, but that doesn’t mean that version of me is fake. It means I’m aiming for something. It means I haven’t stopped believing I can get there.

So maybe that comment wasn’t an insult.

Maybe it was a wish.

A bit of hope aimed at me.

And honestly?

I hope so too.

Because one day, I’d like to feel that effortless happiness — not the performed one, not the stitched-together one, but the real, unforced thing that sits lightly on your chest instead of pressing down on it.

Until then, I’ll keep going.

Keep laughing.

Keep trying.

Not pretending — practicing.

You said I was an addiction, that I felt pleasent, a deep rooted satisfaction even. Like smoking, something you knew you should never induldge in. Yet something you craved, to many times to count.

You said I was poison --- something that hurt to let go of , something that never totally seemed right in the long run. Something you where unable to bifurcate from.

You said I was a drug, a phase of life you could find splinder in, a phase of life you could find joy in. Someone who fixed cracked smiles and gave you hope in never saying goodbye.

The truth is I was none of these things , you where speaking of yourself. Talking of a snake in the grass, a well coated reflection. One that perceived itself as addiction, destoried itself as poison; and carved into me like demons. With no remorse, or conception of the fact that time does not heal all wounds.

You said I was sunshine, the burning grace aginst your smooth skin. I said you where a photograph. A picture of a sunset that was never quite perfectly shot. Yet still as the photographer I tried to will my views. Never able to understand things look diffrent behind a lens.