Some people live like this.
Some people wake up and wish they didn’t. They stare at the ceiling, counting cracks, counting reasons, counting how many days they’ve spent pretending to be okay. Some people shower just to sit on the floor, let the water hide the kind of crying you don’t make a sound for. Some people laugh in all the right places, say “I’m fine” like it’s their last name, then go home and wonder if anyone would notice if they just stopped showing up. Some people hold their phone for hours, typing, deleting, typing, deleting, because “I need help” is too heavy to send, and they don’t want to be a burden to people who stopped asking. Some people make it through the day by imagining the end of it. By measuring time in “just get through this,” by promising themselves they won’t do it, at least not tonight. Some people wake up and wish they didn’t. And some people don’t.
