On a day like today,
when life feels like a battlefield and I'm caught in the crossfire,
Receiving blows from the left, right, front, and back.
I stop knowing what I want.
I forget what I have.
I can't even remember how to keep what hasn't already slipped
through my trembling fingers.
Exhaustion seeps into my bones.
Not the kind that sleep fixes
but the kind that makes it exhausting
to even be lazy.
To even breathe.
To even think.
And sometimes,
I tell myself that maybe a simple gesture,
a warm handshake,
a soft whisper of "You're doing okay,"
could go a long way.
But it's then that the emptiness echoes louder:
There's no hand reaching for mine.
No shoulder brushing gently against mine.
No voice to anchor me when the noise in my head gets too loud.
Not even a single soul to say,
"Hey... hold on. I see you."
I look up.
I look sideways.
I search the room, the street, the sky
but I remember I came into this world alone.
And maybe, just maybe,
I was always meant to carry this ache alone too.
It's too much.
Too much to say aloud.
Too much to explain.
Too much to admit that reality feels like a weight
I was never trained to lift.
And the tears…
they don't fall in pretty streaks.
They fall with the weight of years.
With every heartbreak and shattered heart I tried to glue back together.
With every "I'm fine" I used to cover a wound still bleeding.
So I curl up in the corner of my room,
lights off,
hope flickering,
and whisper to myself—
"Life gave you too many lemons, girl…
make the damn lemonade."
Even if your hands are shaking.
Even if no one drinks it with you.
Even if it tastes bitter.
Make it.
For you.
Because sometimes,
that's the only thing left to do.