I see you—

to the person who stands in the corner,

quietly observing your surroundings,

as if any second

could bring chaos crashing down.

I see you—

to the one who is too afraid to speak,

too afraid to tell your truth,

because you’ve learned

that sometimes silence feels safer.

I see you—

to the child who feels

as though the world is a battlefield,

always waiting for the next explosion,

the next moment

when everything changes.

I see you—

to the person who desperately wants

to fit in with the crowd,

to feel accepted,

to belong,

even when a part of you

is screaming to be understood.

And I see you—

to every person who suffers in silence,

whose pain goes unnoticed

because their scars cannot be seen,

whose illnesses are overlooked,

questioned,

or undermined.

I see you.

Not just the smile you wear.

Not just the laughter you give.

Not just the person

everyone expects you to be.

I see the fear.

I see the exhaustion.

I see the battles

you never speak about.

And even when the world

looks right through you—

even when your pain

goes unnamed—

I see you.

You are not invisible.

You are not forgotten.

Your pain is real.

Your story matters.

And even when the world

fails to notice—

you are still seen.