I sit in silence a lot these days. Not because I enjoy it, but because I’m too tired to explain a pain no one sees. Too tired to keep pretending like I’m okay when every part of me feels like it’s fading. There’s this ache inside me one that doesn’t scream, doesn’t shout, just sits there… heavy… like grief with no name. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the girl staring back. She looks like me. But she’s empty. She’s carrying too much for her age. She’s mastered the art of smiling while her soul is shattering. I miss the version of me that laughed without guilt. That didn’t flinch at kindness or overthink every word. I miss her… but I don’t know how to bring her back. People say “just talk to someone.” But what do you say when your pain doesn’t even have a shape? When it’s just… everything? I’m trying. God knows I’m trying. But it feels like I’m drowning in a crowd screaming quietly while no one hears me. And the worst part? I’ve gotten so good at hiding it that even I forget I’m not okay sometimes. I used to laugh without overthinking it. Now every smile feels forced, like I’m just trying to make everyone believe I’m still okay even when I’m not. I miss the old me. The one who felt light. The one who wasn’t so tired of everything. The one who didn’t cry over things that seem so small to everyone else. I keep trying to find her digging through my memories, tracing back my steps like maybe I dropped myself somewhere But she’s gone, and in her place is this… version of me that’s always pretending. Pretending to be fine. Pretending I’m not carrying too much. Pretending I haven’t changed. The truth is, I don’t even know how to explain what’s wrong. I just feel… off. Empty, sometimes.