There were mornings I didn’t move–
just laid there,
staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers.
The weight wasn’t loud,
it whispered.
Told me nothing mattered,
and somehow I listened.

I stopped answering messages.
Stopped singing in the shower.
I stopped feeling
except for that ache
that lived in my chest
like a tenant who never paid rent
but wouldn’t leave.

I learned to fake normal.
Smiles like paper cutouts,
laughs that never reached my eyes.
Friends asked if I was okay
I said I was tired.
No one questioned that.

Years passed like smoke.
Somewhere in the blur,
I lost who I was.
Or maybe I buried him
under the guilt, the silence,
the endless nights staring at a phone
that never rang.

But today
I found an old photo of myself.
And for the first time,
I didn’t flinch.
I looked at that kid,
and I didn’t feel shame.
Just sadness…
and a little bit of love.

Maybe that’s the start.

Some days, the sun forgets to rise,
Or maybe it does—behind gray skies.
I dress in silence, wear my pain,
A shadow walking through the rain.

The mirror stares, but doesn’t see,
The storm that churns inside of me.
A thousand thoughts, all left unsaid,
A heavy world inside my head.

Laughter feels like distant sound,
A ghost that never lingers ‘round.
And joy—a name I used to know,
Now just a flicker, faint and low.

I try to breathe, but not too deep,
For fear I’ll wake what doesn’t sleep.
The ache is quiet, soft, and slow
A bruise that no one else can know.

But still—I’m here, and that’s not small,
I rise each time I start to fall.
Though light feels far, and hope is thin,
Survival means I’m still within.

I carry storms behind my lips,
Tight sealed with trembling fingertips.
The words are there—sharp, wild, and raw
But fear has locked them in its jaw.

Anxiety’s a quiet thief,
It steals my breath, it feeds my grief.
It wraps around each chance to speak
And crushes it before it peaks.

"Don’t say too much," it warns each day,
"They’ll turn, they’ll leave, they’ll walk away."
So I just nod and fake the part,
While rage and ruin flood my heart.

Depression’s voice is darker still
It tells me silence is my will.
"You’re too much weight, too loud, too wrong
You don’t belong, you don’t belong."

And so I smile, small and tight,
While fighting wars deep out of sight.
Each laugh I fake, each breath I hide,
Is one more scar I wear with pride.

Not out of joy–but out of spite.
Because I lived another night.
Because I’ve learned to bear the cost
Of being here, of being lost.

They never hear the words I drown
The quiet screams, the cracking crown.
But every time I do not fall,
Is something soft,
and something small.

A kind of win. A kind of light.
A voice not loud, but still in fight.
And maybe one day I will say
All I have swallowed
day by day.

But for now, silence is my sword.
Unspoken, yes
but never ignored.

I choke on words I never speak,
A voice gone thin, a will grown weak.
They crowd my throat like smoke and stone
These thoughts that bloom when I'm alone.

Anxiety wraps tight around
Each breath I take, each subtle sound.
It tells me, Don’t—you’ll say it wrong,
You don’t belong, you don’t belong.

And so I sit in muted war,
A scream locked just behind the door.
While all the world keeps spinning loud,
I vanish slowly in the crowd.

My silence isn't peace or grace
It’s panic sealed behind a face.
It’s hands that shake beneath the sleeve,
A thousand doubts that never leave.

"They’ll never get it," whispers fear,
"Stay small, stay quiet, disappear."
So I obey, and fade from view,
Afraid of what my truth might do.

But deep inside, a war still burns,
A hunger aches, a silence churns.
For every word I long to say,
Another part is stripped away.

Yet still I rise, though barely heard,
A fragile soul with caged-up words.
And maybe someday I will speak
Not polished, proud, or loud—just weak.

But real.

Until that day, I hold the line,
Between collapse and “I am fine.”
This quiet is my battlefield
A place I break
but never yield.

Some nights don’t end, they just disguise
They trade the stars for tired skies.
The sun comes up, but not for me,
It only lights what I can’t see.

I brush my teeth, I comb my hair,
Pretend I’m fine, pretend I care.
But underneath this thin disguise,
A storm is swirling in my eyes.

It’s not a scream—it’s something worse:
A quiet, slow, persistent curse.
A numbness pressed into my chest,
A longing just to finally rest.

"You’re broken goods," the whispers hum,
"The best of you will never come."
And though I know they lie like thieves,
Their poison drips between the leaves.

I try to speak, but words fall short
Like soldiers lost in last resort.
So I just nod and fake a grin,
While hiding everything within.

But still I rise, though barely so,
Though heavy winds refuse to go.
Each breath I take, each silent cry
Is proof I haven’t said goodbye.

Not healing fast, not flying free,
Not who I was, or hoped to be.
But still I walk, though slow and small,
And fight the urge to lose it all.

No ending yet, no twist, no cure
Just strength in choosing to endure.
When darkness stays and will not leave,
I stay as well.
I still believe.

There’s no parade for getting dressed,
No cheers for rising with the rest.
No medals hung for one more day
Of keeping all the dark at bay.

The mirror shows a tired face,
Worn down by time, devoid of grace.
But still I stand, with aching spine,
And claim this wrecked, unsteady line.

My thoughts are storms I cannot flee,
A flood that lives inside of me.
They twist my name, they bend my will,
And yet I breathe, I’m fighting still.

"You’re weak," it says, "Just close your eyes
You’ve had enough of scraped-up tries."
But I’ve grown used to its deceit,
The voice that begs for my defeat.

I’ve learned to rise without a cause,
To push through pain with silent jaws.
No trumpet sounds, no flash of light
Just grit, just breath, just endless fight.

Some days I win by standing tall.
Some days I rise, then start to fall.
But even crawling, cracked with doubt,
I choose to stay not figure out.

There’s no one there to see me crawl,
No crowd that gasps or breaks my fall.
But still I move, through silent screams
The shattered bones of broken dreams.

I don’t need stars or perfect skin,
Just proof I didn’t let it win.
And every day I don’t let go
That’s victory.
Though it won’t show.

It doesn’t scream it softly stays,
A shadow cast on brighter days.
No sudden wound, no gushing red,
Just heavy thoughts inside my head.

It wakes with me, it walks in stride,
It knows the words I try to hide.
It wraps around each step I take,
A weight that sleep will never break.

"You're tired," it hums, "just let it win,
What's the use of trying again?"
I hear it more than I hear truth,
It steals my fire, drains my youth.

But still I rise, though knees may shake,
Though hope feels thin and sure to break.
I clench my fists against the dark,
I breathe though lungs forget the spark.

They say be strong, they say hold on
But strength is worn, and faith is gone.
I do not roar, I do not shine,
I only try. This fight is mine.

No banners fly, no crowds applaud,
Just aching steps on ground that’s flawed.
But still I walk, and still I choose,
To bear the bruise and never lose.

For every day I drag this pain,
Through choking fog and endless rain,
Is proof enough that I resist
Still here, still real, I still exist.

And maybe that is all I need
No perfect light, no lightning speed.
Just one more breath, one more small try,
One more refusal to say goodbye.