I can feel good and bad at the same time.

I can laugh while something inside me hurts.

I can be surrounded by people and still feel strangely alone.

I can tell you I'm fine because I genuinely don't know how to explain that I'm not.

And when I feel bad, I have so many words for it.

Sad. Tired. Empty. Lost. Overwhelmed. Heavy. Numb.

But somehow, none of them feels like the right one.

Because sometimes "sad" is too small.

"Empty" doesn't explain the noise.

"Overwhelmed" doesn't explain why I suddenly want to disappear from everyone.

And "bad" feels almost ridiculous when there are so many feelings fighting inside me at once.

I do feel good too.

I really do.

But you already know that version of me.

You've seen her.

Would you ask me what's wrong even if I said "nothing"?

Would you let the silence exist without trying to fill it?

Or would you become uncomfortable because you don't know what to do with this version of me?

Maybe it's easier to disappear than to be seen falling apart.

Because when people get used to seeing you as the calm one, the strong one, the person who's always okay, they don't know what to do when you finally aren't.

And you start wondering if your sadness is inconvenient.