Chapter 82: Pain

-

Eleven Years

There are wounds
that never really close.

You simply learn
how to live around them.

For eleven years,

I've carried something
that has no shape,
yet weighs more
than anything I can hold.

It follows quietly.

Into conversations.

Into silence.

Into the moments
that should have felt light.

People see the version of me
that keeps going.

They don't see
how much strength it takes
to keep standing
when everything inside
feels like it's already fallen.

I don't need anyone
to measure this pain.

I only need to stop pretending
it doesn't exist.

Tonight,

I'm tired.

Not of life.

Just of carrying
what words
have never been able to hold.

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