Therapy Bits

There’s a silence that hums inside my chest,
a storm that never breaks,
a weight that teaches breathing
as a kind of slow surrender.

Morning arrives, contradictory —
all brightness, yet it burns.
The sun insists on living,
and I shrink from its insistence.

I wear a smile like borrowed clothing,
stitched from memory and obligation.
People say, “You seem better,”
and I nod — because truth feels heavier
than their comfort can hold.

There are moments, fleeting,
when laughter feels almost real,
like a window cracked in a locked room,
air brushing my cheek —
but never enough to breathe.

Still, I keep the window open.
Contradictory, yes —
to hope for light while hiding from it —
but that’s the quiet art of staying.

Contradictory – Word of the Day Challenge