If I disappear quietly,
don’t paint me as a tragedy,
just remember I was always trying.
Trying to do better,
for everyone, for myself,
even when I was running on empty.
I reached out first.
Again and again.
Fought through silence,
through the ache of being easy to forget.
I stayed kind
when the world gave me every reason not to be.
I answered quickly,
waited slowly,
hoped stupidly.
All I ever wanted
was to matter without having to fight for it.
But I got tired of proving I deserve space.
Tired of showing up for people
who didn’t notice when I went quiet.
"Trying to do better",
that was always my line.
Even when I didn’t know what better looked like anymore.
Even when it felt like I was the only one still trying.
So if one day I don’t make it,
don’t say I gave up.
Just say I ran out of places
to put all the weight I carried
for far too long
without anyone noticing.
I never wanted anything more
than to be okay.
I swear,
I tried.
