never meant to be the Battle

We were supposed to fight the world, not bleed inside our own chests. Supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder against storms with names and faces not wrestle shadows in empty rooms. But somehow, the enemy moved in quietly. Now it lives in our thoughts, sleeps in our ribs, whispers at 3 a.m. with a voice that sounds like ours. We hurt ourselves in ways no stranger ever could. We were meant to protect our hearts. Instead, we became the knives. There was a time when someone could fix us. Someone who knew how to hold silence, how to stitch broken spirits with nothing but a hug and a soft prayer. But they’re gone now. They live in heaven. They left behind unfinished sentences, empty chairs, and memories that ache when they breathe. They took with them the warmth, the “it will be okay,” the gentle hands that knew where it hurt. Now we carry everything alone. We fight wars inside ourselves with no medics, no ceasefires, no victory songs. Just tears on bathroom floors. Just smiles practiced in mirrors. Just nights that stretch too long and mornings that come too fast. People say, be strong. But they don’t see how heavy grief is. BY:ASHLEY NDERITU