I am the observer—
always present,
yet never really there.

Everyone moves,
their stories unfolding
like rivers rushing forward,
while I remain still,
a stone in the current.

I know their struggles,
I see their patterns—
so I give the advice,
offer the comfort,
play the steady hand.

But no one pauses
to read my story.
No one lingers long enough
to see past my smile,
my practiced “I’m okay.”

And so I stay—
a quiet witness
who lives in motion,
a chapter unopened,
a story unread.