why does it feel like no one notices when you’re struggling unless you say it out loud?
It’s sad, isn’t it? That for people to notice we’re struggling, we have to say it out loud—as if our silence isn’t loud enough. As if the shakiness in our voice, the heaviness in our steps, or the emptiness in our eyes cannot be seen.
Maybe some people just aren’t good at noticing.
But was it really that hard to look into our eyes and see the stories they carry? Was it so hard to see the unshed tears in their eyes, asking someone to look deeper?
Was it so hard to notice the small smile on our lips that doesn’t reach our eyes? Or how we’ve become quieter, pulling away little by little, hoping someone would ask, “Are you okay?”
The truth is, it’s exhausting to always be the one who has to explain the pain.
To spell out every ache, every struggle, just so someone can understand. And sometimes, we don’t even know how to begin. How do you tell someone about the battles you’re fighting when you barely understand them yourself?
I wish people would notice more. I wish they’d see through the small acts of pretending, through the masks we wear so well. I wish they understood that not everyone asks for help with words—sometimes it’s in how we sit, how we breathe, or how we grow quiet.
But maybe the world is just too busy. Or maybe people are too focused on their own struggles to notice ours. Still, it hurts, doesn’t it? To feel invisible in your pain. To wonder if anyone would ever notice if you didn’t say a word.
Sometimes, I wish someone would look closely enough to see the truth we’re too afraid to voice. Because struggling silently is one of the loneliest places to be.
