Everything is failing. Everything is falling. It’s like a scale that can never be even.
My home life is collapsing around me, and they wonder why I want to leave. My social life broke me, and they wonder why I’m depressed.
Everything is falling apart so fast that no one sees. They never see the pain in my eyes, the cuts on my wrist, the panic in my chest, the weight I carry as the oldest daughter — the responsibility of taking care of my sibling, the responsibility of taking care of the house.
Everything is falling apart so fast. No one saw me shatter. They didn’t even see me pick up the pieces.
I’ve been broken twice in the last year. I picked up the pieces once, and no one noticed. But I can’t keep doing this — falling apart while no one sees.
Everyone expects me to be fine. I have to be fine for them, because if I’m not fine, it’s over.
They wonder why I want to leave. They wonder why I’m always tired. They wonder why I “don’t care.” It’s because I’m breaking, and no one cares enough to look.