#silentstruggles
Why are these sudden emotions
revolving inside me now,
when my whole life was the same —
nothing special happened before,
nothing’s happening now,
and nothing seems likely to change ahead?
Yet somehow,
my heart feels heavier tonight.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 9:05 AM UTC
I'm a knight, fighting for my king.
I'm a king, fighting for my land.
I'm a slave, fighting for my rights.
I'm a lover, fighting for my love.
I'm a fighter, fighting for pride.
I'm a goner, fighting for my time.
I'm a prisoner, fighting for my release.
I'm a freedom fighter, fighting for independence.
I'm here, I'm there doing all kinds of crazy things.
Living my life merrily, with a beautiful family I built.
I'm Richer than the existing numbers.
Taller than Mount Everest.
Stronger than the mighty elephant.
Built like a Greek god.
But then, suddenly, I wake up.
I'm no one.
I'm a nobody.
No one notices me.
A stranger in a vast, indifferent world.
Not special, not like in my dreams.
Just a normal human living a normal life,
With high expectations,
Dreams I can’t stop watching,
And too lazy to make them real.
Yet here I am,
Still breathing, still dreaming,
And that is all the fight I have left.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 7:20 AM UTC
I moved because my heart whispered,
quietly, without fanfare.
I stepped into work I never imagined,
to see how far my care could stretch -
to see how deep I could fall for what I felt.
I pulled a friend into my quiet storm,
believing effort could bend fate.
But life hit harder than I expected -
an accident, a debt, a bruise,
a weight too heavy to carry alone.
I called you that day,
not for anything,
only to hear a voice that felt like a small refuge.
You responded as you naturally would,
unaware of the storms pressing down on me.
Not coldness, not anger -just normal,
because you didn’t know the depth of what I carried.
I promised to call again, to give,
but circumstances held me hostage.
Not from weakness, not from a lack of will -
but from life itself, testing how much a heart could endure.
Through all of it, I learned my limits,
and the depth of what I could feel for you.
Every risk I took, every storm I braved,
was measured, deliberate -
not for glory, not from desperation,
but to see how far my heart could fall
and still stand.
Even in chaos, a strange sweetness remained:
the fire of trying for you,
burning bright even
What remains isn’t regret -
just a calm, tired glow,
an unfinished energy I still carry.
Proof that some feelings stay pure
even when the world doesn’t go our way.
If you ever wonder what happened,
just know this:
I stepped forward sincerely,
fell honestly,
and stood up with the same heart -
still warm, still real,
just a little wiser than before!!!!!
WORK FROM ::
To Her Who Already Knows!!!
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 1:21 AM UTC
Really wish I cried more
On the outside, instead of
Stuffing it all deep inside —
Outwardly; I'm looking so
Well put together, but as for:
_Inwardly, Internally, Privately,
Confidentially, Personally —_
__Crashing Out!__
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
We're all functionally depressed, still life keeps
moving on like a train you never quite catch,
Whether you run at its rhythm or circle the
same platform with all your worries attached.
To brace for every good or bad feeling,
an embrace of every demon — depression
in past tense, present tense, or future tense;
No matter the season, it tightens around your
heart, with the goal of making it feel so tense.
And even as your tears suffocate beneath a pillow
filled with all your cold shivers; both of these lungs
Live on borrowed time, and a borrowed sorrow —
it might be best to save your breath for tomorrow.
When I breathe, I taste no air this world ever owed,
being too young to vanish, and too late to erode,
I'm often lost between living on this winding road.
Accustomed to this life, in both its rise and fall;
but maybe surviving it is the hardest miracle of all.
In this aching quake of a heart; what does it truly learn,
if not the lesson of a wound that keeps searching for
the one hand meant to reopen it? Hearts open easily
to love, but it's easier to hope in being loved in return.
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 6:26 PM UTC
Distractions
They turn a man into a lazy soul,
a responsible citizen into a careless one,
a meritorious student into the disobedient,
and a kind heart into something selfish.
They **** righteousness,
while building a false sense of self-esteem.
They drown us in the unnecessary—
a flood of moments we never asked for.
Distractions feel comforting when we’re caught in them,
but they leave us with regret the moment we step away.
Keeping them at a distance
is the first step toward change—
toward becoming who we were always meant to be.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 7:59 AM UTC
"Every sort of humour takes its life from pain."
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 8:09 AM UTC
Don’t close your eyes on your dreams—
you’ll lose sight of what you believe.
The will of your work is measured by
the work you’re willing to put in.
As I live in a house of emotions,
courting words to plead my case—
bleeding through a see-through face.
A quiet ache, always on trial.
Knowing that the high-and-mighty
Christian is the easiest target to bring down.
Careers cut short— because in short, they
never really knew the Lord.
_And me?_
I live like the world’s greatest plot twist,
my mind a tornado of thoughts—
every turn unexpected,
every breeze loud with questions.
I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned
trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue
used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself
down the same way you shoot others—whether
whispered or screamed out loud.
But those who follow their worth,
instead of searching for it in the crowd—
those are the ones who stand out.
__Aloud.__
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
"Some things can only be carried as a responsibility throughout the life and can never be out of love."
Jun 12, 2025
Jun 12, 2025 at 12:45 AM UTC
I am the lonely portrait— a relic of forgotten frames,
paused mid-stroke, as if the brush lost faith in its worth
My skin is painted by many words; learning how to be
tough, taking down note by hesitant note— while the music
always plays in a minor key, an echo with no crescendo,
a verse that never becomes a chorus.
I speak in shadows— duelling the lovely dark that dresses
itself as company. It moves like an earthquake beneath ribs,
quiet until it’s catastrophic, gentle until it crumbles;
paramount and omnipotent.
My tears are potent, but never that important – imported;
as they arrive like a contraband emotion, smuggled in through
brief touches, but never held long enough to feel like home.
No comfort in the snuggle, only a struggle for the struggle —
I carry a thousand reflections, yet none are my own. And still,
I try—stroke by trembling stroke— to repaint my worth without
a muse, without applause, just silence and canvas and longing.
I am the painter’s sad poem— unfinished, unframed; hanging
quietly in a gallery no one walks through anymore.
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 5:20 PM UTC
Some things in life we carry,
Not because we care,
But because we must.
Like faded promises,
And roles we never asked for—
They cling to our spine,
Etching silence into our skin.
Not every burden is born of love.
Some are stitched with duty,
Unseen, unpraised,
Yet always there—
A shadow in the light,
A name we answer to,
Even when our heart stays silent.
We don't resent it.
But we don't cherish it either.
We simply carry.
Because someone must.
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 10:41 AM UTC
I just asked you few things to keep in mind,
Before you open your mouth to talk about me.
I have clearly expressed my intension to stay away from the crowd
But how come you forget this every time?
Every time?
I can't fathom this act of yours.
This running circle of arguments just because you don't listen.
I am fed up, fed up, fed up of this.
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 2:10 PM UTC
I try to be happy—God knows I try.
I wear the smile, say the right words,
laugh when I should, nod when expected.
But it never feels real. It never feels mine.
Family gathers, voices rise, laughter spills.
They ask why I stay away,
why I choose the quiet over the noise,
why I don’t try to belong.
But how do I explain
that solitude is easier than pretending?
That I hold my distance
not out of pride, but out of self-preservation?
That I stay away so I don’t spill my pain,
so I don’t ruin their joy with my silence?
They call me distant, cold, uninterested.
They push, they pry, they force me into things
I once loved but now feel like burdens.
And when I resist, I become the problem,
the one who kills the vibe.
But they don’t know what lingers in my mind—
the thoughts that loop, the memories that bite,
the what-ifs that keep me up at night.
I make up stories that feel too real,
convince myself I’m losing it,
but maybe I’m not. Maybe this is just life.
And maybe one day,
they’ll sit around laughing, not noticing I’m gone.
Maybe they’ll call my name and get silence back.
Maybe they’ll wonder why I never said a word.
And maybe, just maybe—
they’ll finally listen.
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 2:03 PM UTC
They spoke of grown-up life with silver tongues,
A path of purpose, paved in knowing light.
Yet here I stand where no sure road belongs,
Each choice a whisper clawing in the night.
Leftward, hunger wears a hollow grin,
Rightward, comfort rots in rusted chains.
Behind me, childhood’s doors are locked within,
Ahead, a maze of questions hums with pain.
The clock beats loud—a war drum in my chest,
Each tick a verdict carved into my skin.
No space to falter, breathe, or second-guess,
No room for those who fear they may not win.
If I am lost, the world will cast me out,
And still, I walk—though drowning in my doubt.
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 1:27 PM UTC
The morning starts with a sigh and a stare,
"Any job updates?"—the question floats in the air.
Tea on the table, tension in the air,
Unseen weights on every chair.
Children bend beneath the books,
Pages filled with worried looks.
Marks define their worth, they say,
A childhood slowly fading away.
Mom’s voice rises, a familiar song,
Dishes clatter, something’s wrong.
Bills to pay, clothes to mend,
A cycle of worries that never end.
The father nods, the news plays loud,
Another day lost within the crowd.
Dreams are trimmed to fit the mold,
Stories of risks left untold.
And yet, amidst the noise and strife,
This is home, this is life.
Love wrapped in scolding, care in demands,
A house held up by tired hands.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 5:22 AM UTC
always offered help,
never realizing that
i needed it most.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 11:55 AM UTC
Freedom, they said, was for all,
But it became a privilege—
rationed, conditional.
Laws were written in the ink of fear,
Meant to bind us but never them.
Papers dictated our worth,
Time slots our movements.
For what felt like endless seasons,
My world shrank to walls and whispers.
A yard became my horizon,
A car my only escape.
Truth was silenced,
Questions outlawed.
They called it protection,
But it felt like exile.
The Constitution became fragile glass,
Shattering under the weight of hypocrisy.
Freedom was not free;
It was a cage lined with lies,
Its door held shut by fear.
I lost more than days—I lost trust.
The land of the free stood still,
Its anthem drowned in passive compliance.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
In a world where joy and sorrow blend,
We wear our smiles, though hearts may bend.
The laughter fades, and shadows creep,
A heavy burden that we all must keep.
In moments where the heart should soar,
Instead, we feel a quiet war.
The joy that once filled up our days,
Now leaves us lost in a dismal haze.
We reach out, hoping to be heard,
But find no comfort in a word.
Alone, we craft a mask of cheer,
To hide the pain, to mask the fear.
Yet deep within, we all the same,
Carry wounds that have no name.
In this silent, shared despair,
Know that you're not alone out there.
Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 9:33 AM UTC