Member-only story
The Weight We Carry — hoping no one sees the cracks
We’re all just trying to seem whole despite our cracks!!
I woke up this morning with a heaviness I couldn’t name. It wasn’t new, but it felt sharper pressing down on my chest, filling the room like a fog. I lay there for a while, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. They reminded me of how I felt fractured, barely holding together.
When I finally got up, the light streaming through the blinds did nothing to lift the weight. It was just… there, cold and indifferent. I walked to the mirror, avoiding my reflection until the moment I couldn’t. What I saw wasn’t surprising, but it still stung. Tired eyes. A forced neutrality. A face I barely recognized. I splashed water on it, hoping for clarity, but all I got was a wet face.
They tell you to “move on,” as though it’s a destination. Like you can pack up all the pain and leave it behind in some abandoned corner of your life. But that’s not how it works. Pain stays. It roots itself in your thoughts, your breath, and your bones. Moving on isn’t leaving. it’s learning to live with it, to exist in the mess without being consumed.
Outside, the world was its usual chaotic self. Cars honking, people rushing, the city pulsing with a rhythm I couldn’t feel. I walked anyway, hoping motion might shake something loose.