Someone Else's Art Became My Reality

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 You keep telling me, "Distract yourself." You keep telling me, "Stop crying" As if it were that easy. As if suffering was just a choice between crying and not crying. So stop telling me that. I'm tired. Tired of people dismissing my sadness. Tired of blaming myself for everything. Tired of crying myself to sleep. Tired of acting normal. Tired of never feeling enough. When I listened to all these sad songs as a kid, sadness felt like a vibe. Like something to be romanticized. Those sleepless nights, tears in the flower garden, the scribbles on paper. But the funny thing is, that's me right now. Someone else's art became my reality. And that's when you know that you're not as ok as you're pretending to be. 



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