#quiet breakdowns

It’s okay. I’m okay.

My problems are mine— only mine.

So all you’ll hear is: “I’m fine.”

I stand chin up, a confident look upon my face— but inside, doubt.

Doubt of failing. Of falling. Of being looked down on as someone who needs help with something.

I never cry. At least, not during the day. Not in front of anyone.

But then— I get yelled at for not doing what I was told. Because for one moment— just one— I wanted to forget.

To let go. To let my worries slip away.

But I’m pulled back. Things to do. Tasks. Noise.

So I stand tall, chin up, and walk away.

Later— quiet, alone, with no one to worry about, no one to please, no noise pressing in— I feel calm.

Calm like someone who still has something to do, but can breathe.

But if even one thing slips, by the end of the day I’ve already reached my limit.

And finally— to my sorrowful relief— they fall. Tears, like a waterfall into the stream of my pillow, as I silently weep.

Then— almost as quickly as the dam broke— I repair it.

It’s too much I can only do so much, go so many different ways, try so hard.

Leave me alone Voices from everywhere— could be anywhere. Or is it just me in my head?

Stop So many things to do, so many requests, too many thoughts racing through my head.

Please Things to do, or consequences will spread over the things I care for.

What do you want from me? What more can I do? I’ve stopped pleasing myself just to please you.

I can’t I can’t be everything, do everything, be expected of so much.

It’s too much As time slows, everything crashes down. Everything’s been building up—

It’s just another day Where I say “it’s okay” —even though it’s not.

It had ruined my day. But still, I responded: “It’s okay.” Over and over again.

“It’s fine,” I said, multiple times.