Drowning in Silence

It’s so easy for others to say, “Just be yourself,” as if being myself hasn’t already cost me so much. As if feeling everything so deeply isn’t a burden I carry alone. It’s easy for them to say, “You’re not alone; you have friends,” but how can that be true when their lives move forward—partners by their sides—while I sit in the quiet, trying to convince myself that I matter? I’m home, I’m alone, and being “myself” just leads me back here—crying, questioning, and lost in an endless loop of overthinking.

I’m tired. Tired of smiling when it hurts, tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not. Every day feels like a fight to keep my head above water. They say I’m strong, but I don’t feel it. For once, I want to stop treading water. I want to let go and sink—just to see if someone will notice, if someone will reach out, if someone will swim with me instead of tossing me yet another life raft. I don’t need another solution, another distant hand. I need someone beside me, someone who stays.