UNSPOKEN REALITIES

I WAS ALWAYS WAITING

I was always waiting.

For as long as I can remember, I've been here, alone. 

I don't know how much time has passed, I only know that I've always been waiting. I waited for someone to come, for someone to see me, take my hand, and tell me everything would be okay. But no one came. Day after day, I looked at the door, waiting for it to open, hoping to feel the warmth of someone telling me I didn't have to be alone. But the door never opened, and I learned to live with the silence.

When I was a child, I thought I was strong, that I could handle it alone. I would tell myself I didn't need anyone, that I shouldn't be a burden. But the older I got, the deeper the emptiness became, the heavier the walls around me felt. 

They told me I was independent, that I should be proud of not relying on anyone. 

But how do I explain the exhaustion that comes from carrying all the weight on my own shoulders? How do I explain the sadness hidden behind every smile? Every day, I fight to stay on my feet, to not fall. Every day, I feel the water rising a little higher, the darkness closing in a little more. And amidst it all, I keep waiting. I don't say it out loud, because it sounds weak, but deep within me, I wait. I wait for someone to see what I can no longer hide, for someone to realize that despite everything I pretend to be, I need to be rescued.

It's not that I can't do it alone, it's that I don't want to. I don't want to keep being the only person in my life fighting for me. I don't want to keep being my own savior, day after day. But the saddest part of all is that, even though I wish for it, I know no one will come. No one ever came when I was a child, and no one will come now. And perhaps, after all, I've learned not to expect too much. I've learned to swim in this ocean of uncertainty, even if I never stop hoping to see a hand reaching out from the shore.

Today, I walk toward the water. It's cold, but I don't stop. The waves surround me, whispering promises I no longer believe. But I keep walking, one step after another, feeling the current try to pull me, to devour me. And in that moment, I realize something: maybe it's not that I'm waiting for someone to save me. Maybe I just want to stop fighting.