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I wake up tired.

I go to sleep tired.

I dream of being someone

who doesn’t hurt all the time.

I laugh,

but it feels like pretending.

I talk,

but no one really hears.

Sometimes I stare at the ceiling

and wonder

if I was meant

to feel this much,

or if I just broke wrong

somewhere along the way.

People say “it’ll pass.”

But what if it never does?

What if this is just

who I am 

too soft for the world,

too heavy for myself.