6.20.25

i hate the night. not in some cool poetic kind of way, but in the way where silence is punishing and every second stretches into a year i didn’t ask for. summer’s supposed to feel like freedom but it tastes like dread and i’m stuck here while half my friends are sending postcards from places with better skies, and the other half are driving with the windows down and futures in their pockets while i’m still waiting on a permission slip from god. i barely passed school because of one stupid class and now they want to make that the whole story, like the rest—straight A’s—doesn’t count, like one failure is louder than everything else i’ve ever survived. i played the game. i aced the rest. but now i'm benched. now i'm a cautionary tale. just the ugly miracle of almost. it’s bullshit and it’s cruel and i’m tired of doctors calling me strong like it’s a prize, or makes the bleeding worth it, or i should be grateful i’m still standing on this tightrope no one sees. i say i don’t need their validation but that’s a lie. because yeah, maybe i do want someone to tell me this isn’t fair. that i’m not crazy for being this tired, that some days aren’t built to be survived alone. i miss my brother more than i miss anything else. he’s the only person who ever made me feel like maybe the world wasn’t trying to eat me alive, but he’s 500 miles away and it’s late and i don’t want to be the reason someone else feels heavy tonight.