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Some nights, I don't want to be strong. I don't want to understand why I feel this way either. I don't want to find the lesson in it, or remind myself that tomorrow will be another day. Tonight, I am just tired. Tired in that place where even sadness feels like too much work. I have spent so much of my life being the person who stays. The one who answers. The one who carries things home without letting anyone see how heavy they are. I became so good at making sure everyone else was alright that somewhere along the way, I stopped asking what would happen if I wasn't. And there are things I miss that I thought I had already made peace with. People. Places. Old versions of myself. A life I might have lived if I had learned earlier that I was allowed to want things too. Sometimes I think that is what hurts most. Not losing everything. But realizing how much of yourself you quietly gave away while calling it love, responsibility, or simply the way things had to be. And now the night is here, and there is nothing left to fix. So I lie here, finally letting my eyes open their gates, and let the tears run freely down my face. M. | September 2026


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