"you handled it well." you didn't know how much i cried that night. everyone says i'm brave, that i'm strong. but that's not true. i'm just good at pretending that it doesn't hurt. because if they see how soft and sensitive my eyes are, they might judge me. they might tell me i'm weak. they don't know how many sharp needles i have to pull out of my heart just to move forward. they don't know how heavy the air feels when i try to breathe through the pain. every day, i carry wounds they can't see. every night, i close my eyes, hoping the weight will be lighter when i wake up. they see the strong version of me, the one that never breaks. but they don't see the nights i spend alone, trying to stitch myself back together. and maybe, just for one day, i'll stop pretending. maybe i'll let my heart feel everything it has been trying to hide. because the truth is—i didn't handle it well. i only pretended i did.