There are days when I wish I could simply disappear, without leaving a trace behind, as if I had never been here at all.
There are moments when I desperately want to ask God, "Why did you send me here?"
I know everyone is carrying something. Everyone is fighting battles that others can't see. And, I'm not saying my pain is bigger than anyone else's.
Still, some days, the weight of my own pain feels heavier than I know how to carry.
And, sometimes I just want a break. Just a small pause from everything.
I want to breathe.
Not the kind of breathing that keeps you alive, but the kind that feels light.
The kind where you don't have to worry about tomorrow, and about whether things will ever get better.
Because honestly, I'm tired.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a book.
A book filled with chapters I loved. Chapters I held close. Chapters filled with people, dreams, hopes, and moments I wanted to keep forever.
But somehow, those chapters keep getting erased.
One by one.
Until all that's left is an empty book with blank pages.
And I am left wondering who I even am without those chapters?
Maybe that's a question more of us carry than we admit.
The strange thing is, after all this, we wake up the next day and keep going.
We carry what hurts, and keep walking anyway.
Perhaps, that’s what strength really looks like. Not having everything figured out. Not being happy all the time. Just continuing, even when your heart feels completely tired.
And, I guess the fact that I’m still here, asking questions, still hoping for something better, means there is a part of me that hasn't given up yet.
And, for now, maybe, maybe… that’s enough.
