You handled it so well," they tell me. But the truth is, I didn't. I went insane. I lost myself. I lost my spark, I cried in silence, I broke in ways no one could see. I smiled so no one would ask questions, but that smile was nothing more than a mask. I am still in the middle of it still learning how to breathe through the weight, still crying to put back the pieces of myself that don't quite fit anymore. People see strength, but what they don't see is the nights I fall apart, the mornings I struggle just to get out of bed, and the way I fight battles no one knows about. I didn't handle it. I'm just surviving it day by day, breath by breath. And maybe survival itself is its own kind of strength.