Lately, I’ve been choking on emotions I can’t even name anymore—happy, sad, angry, confused, exhausted, tired, and mostly… done.
Just done with everything and everyone.
Last night, after a video call with my drop-dead gorgeous fiancé—the one person who still makes this chaos feel a little less cruel—I pressed my face into my bolster and cried until I couldn’t breathe.
Not because I don’t trust him. I do.
But because I’m so goddamn tired of explaining pain that doesn’t have words.
So I let the tears soak into the fabric instead, pretending it was him, holding me while the world burned quietly around us.
He’d fix it all if he could, I know that.
But this time, I needed to drown in my own silence.
No comfort. No pity. Just the noise inside my head eating me alive.
People say I talk to myself a lot lately. Maybe I do.
Maybe it’s the only conversation I can control anymore.
They can call me weird, or wacko, or unstable—whatever makes them sleep better at night.
I’m not hurting anyone.
But I’m bleeding quietly inside, and no one seems to notice.
All I need right now is him—and a hug strong enough to keep me from falling apart.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep carrying everyone else’s weight while mine keeps crushing me.
I’m trying to be the strong one, the reliable one, the one who holds it all together.
But tell me—
who the hell is holding me?
Where does my sanity go when everyone keeps taking their piece of me?
I just need a moment to breathe.
To scream.
To fall apart without guilt.
Just one moment of peace.
Hufft.
