You cut and cut until there is nothing left,
skin like paper, torn —
as if pain could bleed out the silence,
as if your arms could carry
what your mouth never says.
I see the jump in your shoulders
when someone laughs too loud.
The way you shrink at questions,
like the wrong word
might shatter you.
You wrote on your status:
“give in or end everything
I can’t do either
but I need to do one.”
I stared at the words like they were a countdown,
like the final click of a ticking clock. Like you’d already chosen one.
I wanted to type are you okay?
But that felt too small.
So instead I ask:
Are you eating?
Are you sleeping?
Do you cry when nobody’s seeing?
Because I see you.
I see you
even when you try to vanish into your blazer,
even when your smile is stitched with threads too thin.
I see the way you flinch
when someone mentions love
like it’s a joke
you were never invited to laugh at.
You are not a burden.
You are not too much.
You are not the problem.
You are you.
And I need you here.
Even if you don’t believe that yet.