I think I am tired in a way that people do not really notice. Not the kind of tired that comes from sleep, but the kind that comes from carrying your own thoughts all the time.
The most intense parts of me are private. The fear, the ambition, the jealousy, the hope, the insecurity. Most people only see fragments. They do not see how much I question everything after everyone leaves.
I am lonelier in my mind than I admit in real life. Not because I have no one — but because depth makes me vulnerable, and love would mean being fully seen.
I do not think I am broken. I think I am unfinished.
I built this for everyone else who is too.