It’s the little things that can weigh the most,
The quiet aches no one sees.
Waiting for a text that doesn’t come,
The way their laughter fades when they talk to someone else.
Someone you love moving away,
And you never told them how much they meant.

They seem so small,
But they linger,
Settling into corners of your mind like dust.
You tell yourself it’s nothing—
Not war, not famine, not tragedy.
But in your world, it feels like an earthquake,
Shaking the fragile ground beneath your feet.
The cracks it leaves are too small for others to notice,
But wide enough to trip you when you try to stand.

“You’re overreacting,” they say.
“It’s not a big deal.”
But how can they know?
It’s your world that’s crumbling,
Your heart that’s already too heavy for something so light.

And maybe they’ll never see it.
The way those tiny splinters pierce the softest parts of you,
The way they bleed in silence while you smile.
It doesn’t shatter like glass,
It erodes like stone,
A slow, quiet unraveling of the person you used to be.