The sad part of my mind is quiet but heavy.
It sits in my chest like a stone that no one else can see. It does not always have a clear reason. It just exists. Some mornings, it wakes up before I do.
This part misses people deeply. Even when they are far away. Even when they are not meant to stay, it replays memories like old recordings. It holds onto small moments and stretches them out because that is all it has.
It whispers things like:
“You are alone.”
“You are not enough.”
“You care more than they do.”
It does not scream. It just repeats itself until I start believing it.
Sometimes I feel comforted by the sadness. That sounds strange, but it is true. Sadness feels familiar. It is honest. It does not pretend everything is fine. It admits when something hurts.
The hard part is that it also makes the world feel distant. Like I am standing behind glass. I can see everything happening, but I am not fully inside it.
Still, this part proves something important. I would not feel this deeply if I did not care deeply. The sadness shows that my heart is working. Even if it feels tired.
