People think breaking
always sounds loud.
Like slammed doors,
shattered glass,
screaming matches in the middle of the night.
But sometimes breaking sounds like
“I'm fine,”
said enough times
that even the person saying it
starts to believe it.
Sometimes it looks like laughing
at a table full of people
while feeling completely absent from your own life.
Sometimes it’s replying quickly
so nobody notices
you spent twenty minutes
wondering if anyone would care
if you disappeared for a while.
We live in a world
where dying flowers get watered
faster than tired people get asked
if they’re okay.
And maybe that’s why
so many souls feel homesick
without ever leaving home.
Because somewhere along the way,
people stopped being loved like humans
and started being treated like performances.
Be smart.
Be useful.
Be attractive.
Be successful.
Be anything—
except honest about how much it hurts
to exist sometimes.
But the moon still pulls oceans
without making a sound.
Trees still lose every leaf
without begging anyone to stay.
And somehow,
they bloom again.
Maybe healing
isn’t becoming untouched.
Maybe healing is waking up every day
with scars you never asked for
and still choosing
not to turn your pain
into someone else’s.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 8:19 PM UTC
People think breaking
always sounds loud.
Like slammed doors,
shattered glass,
screaming matches in the middle of the night.
But sometimes breaking sounds like
“I'm fine,”
said enough times
that even the person saying it
starts to believe it.
Sometimes it looks like laughing
at a table full of people
while feeling completely absent from your own life.
Sometimes it’s replying quickly
so nobody notices
you spent twenty minutes
wondering if anyone would care
if you disappeared for a while.
We live in a world
where dying flowers get watered
faster than tired people get asked
if they’re okay.
And maybe that’s why
so many souls feel homesick
without ever leaving home.
Because somewhere along the way,
people stopped being loved like humans
and started being treated like performances.
Be smart.
Be useful.
Be attractive.
Be successful.
Be anything—
except honest about how much it hurts
to exist sometimes.
But the moon still pulls oceans
without making a sound.
Trees still lose every leaf
without begging anyone to stay.
And somehow,
they bloom again.
Maybe healing
isn’t becoming untouched.
Maybe healing is waking up every day
with scars you never asked for
and still choosing
not to turn your pain
into someone else’s.
Found an old poem from a while ago. Enjoy.
Request permission to use this poem