Things I Never Say Out Loud (because not every truth is meant to echo)

I say “I’m fine”

when I mean

I’m unraveling

like thread from a tired sweater,

pulled too thin in too many directions.

I laugh at the wrong times,

not because I think it’s funny,

but because silence feels louder

than I know how to carry.

I make lists I never follow,

check boxes I don’t believe in,

and fold my dreams

like paper cranes

that never leave the shelf.

I miss people

who are still alive,

just no longer mine.

I walk past mirrors

and sometimes don’t recognize

the way my eyes

hold storms

behind tired smiles.

But I keep going.

Because no one taught me

how to stop.

And maybe—

just maybe—

that’s its own kind of strength.