gniniard

I wake up already tired, like sleep forgot to hold me gently. My body moves, but my soul lags behind, dragging shadows no one else can see. I smile when they look my way, a fragile mask I learned to wear well. They hear my laugh, but not the silence that echoes loud inside my chest. I give pieces of myself freely, until I no longer know what remains. An empty cup pretending to pour, a quiet storm whispering my name. Some days, I disappear in plain sight, hoping someone notices the fading light. Not to save me, not to fix me— just to remind me I still exist. And maybe tomorrow, I will gather the scattered parts of me. Not whole, not healed— but still breathing, still trying, still here.