after i’ve poured everything into everyone else, after i’ve been the shoulder, the listener, the comfort, the healer, the one who shows up even when i’m breaking, who is going to hold me. who is going to notice the cracks in my voice, the quiet in my presence. who is going to kiss the wounds no one sees and stay long enough to help me feel whole again. who heals the healer when the healer gets hurt.
i’m always the one people come to. friends. strangers. they all see me as safe. as strong. as the one who will always listen. always understand. i’m the person who gets the “i’ve never told anyone this before” texts. the one who’s expected to carry it all and never crumble. and the truth is i do carry it. i take it on without question. because i know how it feels to scream inside and have no one hear you. i never want anyone to feel like that. so i take it. all of it. even when i’m not okay.
but the part no one sees is that when the world goes quiet and it’s just me, i don’t know who to turn to. i don’t know who will let me fall apart without asking for something in return. i don’t know who would even notice if i did. when i try to speak, the words get stuck. not because i don’t feel, but because i don’t know how to be on the other side of care. i’m so used to being the safe space, i forgot what it feels like to have one.
people say they’re here for me, but it’s never the same. they don’t ask. or they do, and i say i’m fine, and they believe it. maybe they want to believe it. maybe it’s easier for them that way. but the truth is i’m tired. i’m really tired. of being strong. of being needed. of being poured into until there’s nothing left of me.
sometimes i wonder if anyone sees me for more than what i give. if i stopped showing up for everyone else, would anyone come looking for me. would anyone notice the silence. would anyone care enough to sit with me in it.
because all i’ve ever been is the one who stays. i just don’t know who would stay for me.
