I don’t speak much these days.
But inside—
a storm.
Not thunder,
just the kind that tears quietly,
without warning.
There’s a version of me
buried deep—
the one who laughed without flinching,
who believed the world was soft.
But life kept asking me
to be stronger than I felt,
so I masked the truth
and wore the smile.
They see me—
laughing, working,
passing through the day.
But they don’t see
the tears I swallow
when the night comes
to collect its toll.
I miss who I was
before silence felt safer,
before pretending became
second nature.
I am fading—
not loudly,
but piece by piece.
And the cruelest part?
How invisible it feels.
Like I’m vanishing
while the world
keeps turning.