You see that girl over there?

Yeah, the one laughing too loud,

telling jokes like she’s made of joy–

but if you look close enough,

there’s a storm behind her eyes.

She’s got the whole room fooled.

Smiling. Dancing. Being “fine.”

But inside…

She’s just trying to breathe.

Trying to keep it together

in a world that keeps pulling her apart.

She’s tired.

Not the kind of tired sleep can fix.

The kind of tired you feel in your soul–

Where even breathing feels like effort.

Every night,

she wrestles with shadows in her head.

They come out when the world goes quiet,

whispering in her ear like lullabies:

“no one would notice if you disappeared.”

“Would anyone even care?”

But she doesn’t let them win.

No.

She pulls the covers up,

takes a shaky breath,

and tells herself

“Maybe tomorrow will be better.”

She doesn’t cry where anyone can see.

She’s built walls so high,

she barely remembers how to tear them down.

Because once–

she cried herself to sleep

so many nights,

she forgot what dry pillows feel like.

But that’s not weakness. 

That’s strength in its purest form.

‘Cause despite the thousand little heartbreaks,

she still shows up.

Still laughs.

Still looks for good in people

even when they gave her every reason not to.

Every night, 

it’s another round with the demons–

And still, she fights.

Still, she holds on

to that fragile thing called hope. 

Every day,

her fire grows–

Quietly, stubbornly.

You can see it in her eyes

if you take the time to look.

She’s a fighter.

She’s tired, yeah–

But she is still here.

She picks herself up

when the world knocks her down.

Again.

And again.

And again. 

So, if you see her smiling,

just know–

that smile

isn’t for show.

It’s armor. 

It’s survival.

It’s her saying,

“I’m still here. I’m still trying.”

“And maybe…maybe tomorrow will be kind.”