tomorrow, i’ll sit across from someone
whose job is to listen.
i’ll try to speak,
to untangle the mess i carry,
but the words might not come out right.

i’m scared.
scared they’ll dismiss me,
scared they’ll nod politely
but not truly hear.
scared they’ll look at me
like i’m just another 16 year old
with problems that don’t matter.

but what if they do listen?
what if i let them in,
just enough to ease this weight?
what if saying the words
i’ve been too afraid to speak
is the start of something better?

i’m not sure i’ll go.
i’m not sure i’ll stay.
but maybe sitting in that chair
is the first step
toward finding something
i didn’t know i needed.