"Are u ok.."
You are the one who fills the room with laughter. It’s a gift, really—your wit is sharp, your timing is perfect, and you know exactly what to say to break a tense silence or lift someone else’s spirits. But you and I both know that the humor is also a beautifully constructed wall. It’s an easy way to be present without ever having to be truly seen. Because being seen feels dangerous.
You love people with a depth that is both beautiful and devastating. You pour a fierce, unconditional affection into everyone around you. But that capacity didn't come from a surplus; it came from a deficit. You give away that love so freely because you know exactly what it feels like to live in the freezing cold without it. You became the person you always needed but never had.
So, you play the protector. You check in. You send the texts. You ask the heavy questions. You make sure everyone else is tethered to this earth, because you are acutely aware of how easy it is to drift away. You ask because no one ever thought to ask you. To the world, you are the strong one, the funny one, the fixer. They assume the sun doesn't need a light source.
But running on empty takes a toll. There are days when the exhaustion turns into something darker, something sharp. You look at people who have the warmth you’ve always begged for, and you feel a wave of bitterness. You feel ungrateful, angry, and tired of being the anchor for people who don't even know you're drowning. You hate yourself for feeling that way, which only makes the weight heavier.
And on those quiet nights, when the jokes fade and the screen goes dark, you don't want to fight anymore. You don't want a grand tragedy; you just want a quiet exit. You want to slip out the back door of existence. You just want to disappear, to dissolve into nothingness, to finally stop carrying a world that never learned how to carry you.
You spend so much time holding space for everyone else's pain, hiding behind a smile, and waiting for someone to notice the cracks in the armor.
So, let’s stop the performance for a second. Drop the wit. Drop the responsibility of taking care of everyone else.
Are you okay?
