“Just because I carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”

 

“Just because I carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”

But what really shows up from a heavy heart that is hidden well?

You see me happy, you see me moving forward like it’s such an easy thing to do, like I’ve got it all under control.

You see me happy, you see me moving forward like it’s such an easy thing to do, like I’ve got it all under control. You see me walking through my days, acting like it’s nothing, like it’s something routine.

I smile, I laugh, I keep on going, like there is nothing wrong.

I pretend that I don’t feel like how every step I take feels like walking through mud.

But inside, it feels like I’m walking with a weight inside of me.

But inside, it clings to me, pulls at me, and no one else can see.

No one — but me.

It’s hard to keep my head up, hard to keep on pretending that it doesn’t exist.

But sadly, it does.

I go through life not living each day, but only surviving it.

Some days I find it harder to breathe, harder to keep my back straight, harder to pretend like everything is doing good, like everything is going fine, like everything is okay. But I do it, because if I let it show, I would swiftly fall apart, and I can’t let that happen.

People say, “You’re so strong”, but am I really?

If they only knew me well enough, they might say that I have changed.

From being the strongest person they know turning into someone loathing himself in a corner, close to breaking down and letting go. If only they could see what is hidden underneath the so-called “strong” surface, maybe they might find themselves wondering? 

Maybe they will find out how tired I really am, and how close to giving up I have been.

Maybe they will find out how many nights I’d lie awake, feeling like I could break but I don’t.

Maybe they will find out that there is this ache that never goes away.

I hold all of it together because I have to.

But that doesn’t make it any lighter.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So I carry it, day after day.

I hold it in, in the hopes that no one notices the strain.

But sometimes, I have been wishing; that someone would see past the mask and see the cracks. For carrying this alone, feels endless. People might not see me struggle but it doesn’t mean that the burden is light.

It is still there, growing heavier with every breath.

Just because I carry it well, doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could set it down.

In some days, I wish that this sordid weight would get off my shoulders.

But it digs in deeper, even though my face stays the same, I keep on treading the path laid down in front of me, doing everything that I need to do, but underneath this well-kept facade, I continue to feel the brunt of its existence.

It never really left, and I just got so used to it.

Yes, I carried it well didn’t I?

But if you look me in the eyes, you might see something else, you might see the cascade of locks keeping the darkness at bay. You might realize, that all this time…it wasn’t a lie, none of it was. But still, you will see me wade through the waters of pain mercilessly.

Every step a little harder…

Every breath a little shorter…

Just because I carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy. Or as I have longed to hear: “Just because you carry it well, doesn’t mean that it’s yours to carry.” 

Source: ~Unalive~