There’s a quiet pressure I carry in my head almost every day. An unspoken effort to hold things together, to keep the pieces from falling apart — even when no one else seems to notice the cracks.
The thing is — people don’t always see things the same way. Some are so caught up in their own lives that they overlook the quiet acts of care and the small sacrifices made for them. Some choose distance, unbothered about the things happening around them. And others carry love in ways that aren’t always visible but it exists in silence, in gestures so subtle they’re often missed. I feel it in the unspoken moments, in little gestures most people might miss. But it hurts to see when those moments get twisted or misunderstood everytime.
And here I am, stuck somewhere in between. Trying. Hoping. Pretending I’m okay when honestly, it feels like my head’s slowly coming undone.
Maybe one day things will change. Maybe people will notice what others are carrying in quite ways. Maybe hearts will soften, words will come easier, and love won’t feel so complicated.
Until then, some of us just keep holding on. Quietly.
The thing is — people don’t always see things the same way. Some are so caught up in their own lives that they overlook the quiet acts of care and the small sacrifices made for them. Some choose distance, unbothered about the things happening around them. And others carry love in ways that aren’t always visible but it exists in silence, in gestures so subtle they’re often missed. I feel it in the unspoken moments, in little gestures most people might miss. But it hurts to see when those moments get twisted or misunderstood everytime.
And here I am, stuck somewhere in between. Trying. Hoping. Pretending I’m okay when honestly, it feels like my head’s slowly coming undone.
Maybe one day things will change. Maybe people will notice what others are carrying in quite ways. Maybe hearts will soften, words will come easier, and love won’t feel so complicated.
Until then, some of us just keep holding on. Quietly.
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