i stay because i’m needed. my friends, my family, my cats. they tether me gently to this world, and i love them for it.
but still, i’m tired in a way sleep can’t fix. i carry a kind of grief that doesn’t come from any one thing, and never really ends.
i would never wish this on anyone. but sometimes i wish someone could feel it, just for a moment— the weight i carry, the quiet ache of living in my mind.
not so they’d hurt, but so they’d understand why surviving sometimes feels like hell on earth.
i’m still here. i’m still trying. but it’s heavy. and the weight is starting to win.