You call it strength… but in truth, it’s a deep fear of collapsing in front of someone.

You stand firm in front of everyone, as if nothing shakes you.

You smile when you’re exhausted, and you go silent when the pain grows heavier—

as if your role in life is to be the pillar that never bends.

But behind that firmness…

there is a tired heart that can’t find a single safe moment to show its weakness.

And there is an old fear that your pain will be seen, misunderstood,

or that people will say you’re no longer as strong as they thought.

So you hide what hurts, and you keep walking alone,

even when the weight becomes more than you can carry.

This mask gives you a temporary sense of control,

but it takes something far more precious:

the chance to be seen as you are… not as you pretend to be.

And remember, you are human—

and the exhaustion you hide isn’t a flaw or a failure…

it’s a sign that your heart is alive,

and that what you’re carrying is far too heavy to carry alone.