Chemi
*.✧ Que Sera, Sera ✧.* | 25y/o fem
- Nov 25, 2025
- 255
Hello, it's me again.
The one who keeps coming back even when I swear I'm done. The one who almost stepped through the exit door two days ago but got pulled back by messages and love and the goddamn calendar saying Christmas is too close now.
I'm still here, still carrying this weight on my chest that never lifts, this quiet scream trapped behind my ribs that no one hears. Every day feels like dragging myself through thick fog, and I'm so fucking tired of pretending I'm still in the race. People message less, conversations fade to gray, and I watch the distance grow like cracks in ice I'm standing on. I don't have the energy to reach out, to prove I'm still worth keeping. So I just... shrink. quieter. smaller. lonelier.
I was so close to letting go a few days ago. Everything was ready, the exit door was right there, and for a moment, the pain felt like it might finally stop. But love poured in from places I didn't expect, and I couldn't do it to them. Now Christmas is breathing down my neck, and I can't leave that kind of shadow under the tree. So I'm stuck here again, in this half-life where nothing feels real except the ache.
I'm disappointed in myself for still being here. for not having the strength to finish it, and not having the strength to want tomorrow either. I'm just... floating in the in-between... again.
I'm tired of carrying a heart that still beats when it shouldn't. Tired of being the ghost in my own story.
I don't know how much longer I can pretend this is living.
I don't know what I'm looking for today. Just needed to say it out loud somewhere safe.
So yeah… It's me again.
The one who keeps coming back even when I swear I'm done. The one who almost stepped through the exit door two days ago but got pulled back by messages and love and the goddamn calendar saying Christmas is too close now.
I'm still here, still carrying this weight on my chest that never lifts, this quiet scream trapped behind my ribs that no one hears. Every day feels like dragging myself through thick fog, and I'm so fucking tired of pretending I'm still in the race. People message less, conversations fade to gray, and I watch the distance grow like cracks in ice I'm standing on. I don't have the energy to reach out, to prove I'm still worth keeping. So I just... shrink. quieter. smaller. lonelier.
I was so close to letting go a few days ago. Everything was ready, the exit door was right there, and for a moment, the pain felt like it might finally stop. But love poured in from places I didn't expect, and I couldn't do it to them. Now Christmas is breathing down my neck, and I can't leave that kind of shadow under the tree. So I'm stuck here again, in this half-life where nothing feels real except the ache.
I'm disappointed in myself for still being here. for not having the strength to finish it, and not having the strength to want tomorrow either. I'm just... floating in the in-between... again.
I'm tired of carrying a heart that still beats when it shouldn't. Tired of being the ghost in my own story.
I don't know how much longer I can pretend this is living.
I don't know what I'm looking for today. Just needed to say it out loud somewhere safe.
So yeah… It's me again.
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