kreeshyaa
She was the kind of soul who loved too deeply and hurt too quietly. To the world, she looked fine ,smiling at the right times, laughing when everyone expected her to. But when the night arrived, silence became her companion, and her pillow knew the secrets her voice could never carry.
She gave people pieces of her heart, even when her own was bleeding. She listened to others' stories while hers remained untold. And in that unspoken weight, she began to break.
For a long time, she thought survival meant pretending. But slowly, she learned survival was actually choosing herself, even when it felt selfish. She realized her scars weren't signs of weakness, they were proof that she endured what others might not have survived.
Her healing didn't come in grand moments. It came in little things: in mornings where she chose to rise despite exhaustion, in the courage to say "no" when her heart wanted to say "yes," in learning to love herself the way she had always loved others.
And one day, when she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw someone broken. She saw a survivor. A story still unfolding. A storm that refused to be silenced...