I’m tired

I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay
when it’s not.

Tired of slapping on a smile,
nodding along to small talk,
all surface-level bullshit

while my chest sits heavy
with words
I never said.

Not even to myself.

I’m tired of “Kind Regards”
and “many thanks for your email”
as if I give a flying fuck
about the corporate crap
drowning my mornings.

I’m tired of seeing
“confined space regulations 1997”
warnings

when none of them warned me
about the damn uncovered hole
I near-death-dropped in.

A hidden hole
that nearly swallowed me whole,
wiping out everything
I thought I knew before.

No one will ever get it.

No one sees
the hidden agony
inside every breath I take.

So I keep it to myself
letting my body keep score.

And I’m too fucking tired
to keep masking
a version of me
that’s easy to digest.

I’m tired of “how are you?”
without anyone staying
for the real answer.

Tired of storms
no one clocks
that I carry silently.

So why reveal my pain
when it’s only ever been me
that had me?

I got crushed
under EVERYTHING
I ever carried.

so hard
my spine
fucking shifted.

Traumatic scoliosis.

I’ve sat in rooms
full of people -

alone.

And I realised:

no one’s coming.

To save me
or you.

And that’s not sad.

It’s clarity.

Because this is where
I step into
the powerhouse
I’ve always been.

Only difference now?

Unfuckwithable
self-reliance.

The kind you only earn
when you self-rescue
from your own abyss

internally bleeding,
rupturing,
fracturing

for FIVE days.

ALONE.

But hey,
I’m still here.

And so is my goddamn kidney.

Call it luck.
Call it God.
Call it a miracle.

I call it
the unbreakable human spirit
dragging itself back to life
through pure primal instinct.

Because the thing about us tigers
you never see us coming.

And no matter how many times
you try to crush the shit out of me

I will always
get back up.

But this one?

This was the closest
I’ve ever come.

So let me get back on my own damn feet

and then I’ll show you
who the fuck I am.