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I don’t always know how to put my feelings into words. Sometimes, I try to write something meaningful, but it ends up sounding too formal, too detached from what I really feel. But today, I just want to be honest. No overthinking. No filtering. Just me.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m carrying too much. Like I’m constantly holding my breath, waiting for a moment where I can finally let it all out. But that moment never really comes, does it? Because life doesn’t pause for you to catch up. It keeps moving, and you either keep up with it or get left behind.

And then, there’s the exhaustion. Not just from responsibilities, but from everything. The need to always be the one who gives in, the one who adjusts, the one who understands. I love my family and friends, but sometimes, I feel like I’m screaming in my head, wanting them to see me, to understand me the way I try so hard to understand them. But I end up swallowing my words, telling myself it’s not worth it, that maybe I’m just being too sensitive.

I keep telling myself to let things go. That people won’t always understand, that I shouldn’t expect too much, that I should just be okay with it. But how do you just be okay with it when the weight of it sits so heavily on your chest? When you’re the one constantly making space for others, but no one seems to notice that you need space too? I wonder if it’s selfish to want someone to reach out first, to ask how I’m really doing without me having to explain.

I carry these thoughts around, but I don’t always show them. People see me as independent, capable, someone who has it together. And maybe I do, sometimes. But what they don’t see is how scared I get when faced with new challenges. How I hesitate before stepping into something unfamiliar, afraid that I’ll mess up, that I’ll look foolish. How I crave reassurance but feel guilty for needing it. Because what if I’m too much? What if people get tired of me seeking comfort? So instead, I convince myself that I don’t need it. That I can handle it alone.

But the truth is, I don’t always want to handle it alone. I want to be seen. I want to be understood. I want to know that even if I don’t say anything, someone will still notice when I’m struggling. I don’t want to have to explain why I’m quiet, why I look tired, why I suddenly feel distant. I want someone to just know. But people aren’t mind readers, and I can’t expect them to be. So I sit with these feelings, unsure of what to do with them, unsure if they even matter.

I think a lot about patience. About how everything in life, no matter how overwhelming, eventually settles. But waiting for that moment, for things to get better, for the weight to lift is exhausting in itself. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m just fooling myself into believing that things will get better, or if I’m just making excuses to keep going. Maybe the version of me right now doesn’t have all the answers, and maybe she feels like she’s not enough sometimes. But I hope the future me looks back and sees that she was enough all along.

Maybe things don’t have to be as complicated as I make them out to be. Maybe I don’t have to carry everything on my own. Maybe it’s okay to want to be understood, to want to be cared for in the way I care for others. Maybe I don’t always have to be the one who adjusts.