17/07/2026
This pain is real.
I do not care what they say.
This pain is real.
It consumes my entire experience.
I can feel it with all my senses.
Each day it screams louder,
tightening its grip.
I feel trapped and helpless.
I want to stop the fight.
There is a moment of weakness β
I drop to my knees, begging for mercy.
I scream in silence because no one knows.
No one can know.
I feel like a failure.
This moment of weakness will pass.
I dust myself off,
standing tall and proud.
I press on with the day,
showing fake confidence to the world,
a fake smile on my face.
I strive for perfection.
Yet each time I see my reflection,
there is a wounded soul in my eyes,
and once more,
excruciating pain ripples through my existence.
How long can I go on like this?
I ask myself this question.
How much more can I take?
Do I have any other choice?
At this moment, there is none.
So I carry on as I am β
suffering on the inside,
pretending strength on the outside.
My soul is suffocating.
As the day comes to an end,
I numb my senses,
trying to get some rest,
dreading the next day.
I wonder β
will I be able to go on?
I wrote this poem during one of the hardest periods of my life.
I share it today because I know some of you are living inside these exact words right now. Carrying it quietly. Performing strength you don't feel. Dreading tomorrow while pretending today is fine.
I want you to know β I see you. Not from the outside looking in. From someone who has been exactly where you are.
I'm still on my healing journey. We all are. But I'm far enough along to tell you with absolute certainty β this is not where your story ends.
If these words found you today, maybe that means something.
π¬ My inbox is open. Always. β Kasia πΏ