She’s the middle daughter, full of rage, full of anger.
Full of thoughts no one ever gets to hear, full of thoughts which overwhelm her.
She’s the middle daughter, never the best, always enough to be thrown away to the side.
the one that's always treated unfairly, she overthinks everything far too much, but it is always suppressed within her, her anger, her hatred, her thoughts, her pain, it is all suppressed and caged within her because she fears of being an even bigger burden than she already is on the people around her.
no one ever seems to notice the middle daughter or the pain and suffering she hides and carries all by herself, but it’s definitely there.
It’s not easy to hide the pain, especially not when it starts to get visible on the outside.

⸻

Even the thought of talking makes me feel anxious.
The looks I get, the thoughts of people—I can almost hear them. People laugh about things that, to me, are nightmares. I’m standing in the bakery. Three more people, then it’s my turn. My hands are shaking. My thoughts are spinning so fast I feel like I might pass out. It’s my turn, and all I can do is look at my mom like a little kid, silently begging her to order for me.

I’m sitting in class.
The teacher asks a question, and I know the answer. I should raise my hand—of course I should. I know it. But I don’t.
What if I’m wrong and everyone thinks I’m stupid?
What if they all look at me?
I can already feel the eyes, hear the laughter. I used to laugh too… isn’t laughter something good? No. Not like this. It’s the worst thing that could happen.

My leg starts shaking. My hands are damp. I struggle to breathe. I start fidgeting with my sleeve.
And suddenly… the teacher picks someone else. I missed my chance. Again.
Why can’t I just speak?

It’s not like something bad would really happen. Everyone else talks. Why can’t I? Why is everything so **** embarrassing?
I know I need help—desperately. And even when I had help, I couldn’t use it the way I should’ve. Now it’s gone, and I can’t bring myself to ask for it again. Even if I did, I don’t know if I’d be able to use it right this time.

When does this hellish cycle end?
When will it stop being so humiliating to do simple things—like drinking in public?
When can I finally start living instead of surviving?

No one understands how exhausting it is when everything feels so embarrassing that you lose all your confidence… or worse, can’t even try at all.