I’ve seen things I can’t unsee.
I’ve held lives together
with shaking hands and quiet hope.
And I’ve walked away wondering
if I was ever really seen at all.

But here’s the logic they forget to teach:

Feeling deeply
isn’t weakness.
It’s data.
It’s memory.
It’s proof
that the world still touches you
when it tries to make you numb.

And maybe I’ll never solve the full equation.
Maybe the variables keep shifting.
But here’s what I know:

I would rather stay soft
and confused,
and tired,
and real—

than become sharp and certain
and alone.