“you handled it so well” maybe I really did because my hands were trembling now
under the weight of what I’m handling…
It took everything in me to unpackage all the baggage.
Every emotion I’ve suppressed, every tear I’ve held back, is packed away tightly in boxes marked “handle with care,” but no one ever reads the labels. Slowly, I’ve learned to open them alone, to sort through memories and pain like they were old photos I didn’t ask for but can’t throw away.
Each time, it feels like reopening a wound, but what choice do I have? To leave the baggage untouched is to let it rot from the inside out. Still, it takes more out of me than anyone realizes, more than I even allow myself to acknowledge most days. The weight isn’t just in carrying the baggage, but in constantly pretending it doesn’t exist.
I’ve become a master of disguising the cracks, painting over the fractures in my soul as if nothing has ever broken me. The heaviness is invisible to everyone else, yet it weighs me down until my hands shake, betraying the burden no one seems to see.
It’s strange, isn’t it, how the more you carry, the better you get at pretending it’s effortless? But every mask I wear takes a little more out of me, and one day, I fear there’ll be nothing left beneath it.
Yes, I handle it so well because I can’t find the strength to let my tears fall in front of the people who should’ve been my run to place when everything is heavy. Every time the walls close in, I look around and realize that the shoulders I thought I could lean on were never truly mine.
I can’t seem to find my voice to scream so loud because the silence has been enveloped it. It’s ironic, really. The louder the storm rages inside me, the quieter I become. Silence becomes my defense mechanism, my only way of holding back the flood, but it also suffocates me.
I wish I could just release it all, let my pain echo through the air but after so long, the words seem to have forgotten how to form.
I handle it so well because who would do it for me? Who would step into the storm for me, even if I asked? The answer has always been the same: no one. So, I learned to be my own savior, my own shelter in the storm.
Carrying it alone might be my reality, but sometimes, I wish it wasn’t.
Will the world stop because I can’t hold it all together anymore? It won’t, right? The world doesn’t pause for my struggles, it doesn’t stop to acknowledge the quiet breakdowns happening behind closed doors. I could crumble, I could fall apart, and life would go on just as it always has… cold and indifferent.
There’s a certain cruelty in that, isn’t there? The idea that my struggles are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, that my pain doesn’t warrant the world’s attention. But even knowing that, I keep pushing forward, as if holding it all together is my only option.
The fear of falling apart is almost as overwhelming as the weight itself.
I have no right to question why all these things are running to my way because it is the price we pay for living. I tell myself this over and over, that suffering is just part of the deal, that to live is to struggle. And yet, there’s a part of me that still wonders: why me? Why does it feel like some of us are asked to carry more than our share? But those questions go unanswered, dismissed as pointless in the face of reality.
Life is unfair, I know that. Still, it doesn’t make the weight any easier to bear. I may not have the right to question, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting answers.
Why do I have to go through all of this? I don’t have an answer for this, and maybe there isn’t one. Maybe there’s no reason for the hardships, no lesson hidden within the pain. But it’s hard not to wonder. Is there something I’m meant to learn, something I’m missing? Or is this just the randomness of life, the chaos that spares no one?
Sometimes it feels like the universe is testing me, pushing me to the brink just to see if I’ll break.
Why has pretending everything is fine become so normal that it has become part of my daily life? Smiling through the pain became second nature, and before I knew it, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be real. To be authentic.
It’s exhausting, but at the same time, the idea of letting go… of showing the world how much I’m struggling feels terrifying. So, I pretend, day after day, as if pretending is all I know how to do. And in a way, it has become a part of who I am.
Just because I carry it well doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. The world loves to praise strength, to admire those who bear their burdens with grace. But no one ever asks how heavy the load truly is.
Just because I don’t falter, just because I keep moving forward, doesn’t mean the weight isn’t crushing me beneath it.
Strength doesn’t mean the absence of pain, and carrying it well doesn’t mean I don’t feel every ounce of it. It’s heavy, so much heavier than anyone realizes. But I carry it anyway, because that’s what I’ve always done.
“you handled it so well” because I had to…
Dear lovely souls,
It’s okay to admit that it’s heavy. It’s okay to admit that you’re tired. That doesn’t make you weak. There’s a certain strength in being able to say, “This is hard, and I’m struggling.” And I want you to know that it’s okay to feel that way.
The world may not stop for you, but that doesn’t mean your pain doesn’t matter. Your struggles, your emotions, your silent battles they are all valid. Just because others don’t see the cracks doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
If there’s one thing I hope you take from this, it’s that you don’t have to keep pretending everything is fine. You don’t have to be the one who always has it together. You deserve the space to be vulnerable, to let the walls come down, even if it’s only for a moment. It’s okay to let go of the need to be strong all the time. There’s no shame in asking for help, or even in just admitting to yourself that you need it.
You may not always have the answers, and life may feel unfair. But you’re not alone in this. There are others like you, quietly carrying their own burdens, who would understand your pain. We may not have met, but I’m with you in spirit, sending you strength and understanding, and I hope that someday you’ll find peace in sharing the load.
Please, be gentle with yourself. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world for far too long.
With all my love,
Vina
