We keep ourselves busy
so we don’t have to feel
like maybe we’re just broken.
Scroll.
Laugh.
Click.
Numb.
Hearts aching under quiet weight.
We make plans just to avoid being still.
Sip dopamine like it’s water.
Burn hours just to stay warm.
We watch everything but miss the point.
Take pictures of lives we never lived.
Smile.
Pose.
Crop.
Hide.
When did healing become disappearing?
When did rest start feeling dangerous?
We avoid mirrors
not because of the reflection,
but what’s missing.
We edit out the scream.
Leave only
what looks okay.
I get it.
We’re taught to be fine.
Taught to earn our worth
through noise,
through speed,
through grind.
So we keep going.
One more scroll.
One more drink.
One more laugh that doesn’t reach the chest.
But silence isn’t failure.
Stillness isn’t weakness.
You are not a mistake.
Not a glitch.
Not a ghost.
You are breath.
Bruised.
But still breathing.
You are the story
you’re scared to read.
So stop.
Not forever just today.
Let it fall.
Let it hurt.
Let it be quiet.
You are not lost.
You are becoming.
Even here.
Especially here.
You are awake.