Beneath the Surface

It’s more than just the cut.

It’s the moment before it —

when the world feels too heavy to hold

and your own skin feels like a cage.

It’s the silence that builds inside your chest,

the scream you never let out,

the ache you can’t name

that demands to be seen somehow.

People see scars and think they know the story.

But they don’t see the nights you fought it.

The times you cried yourself to sleep and woke up still fighting.

The way you learned to smile so no one would ask questions.

It’s not about wanting to die —

it’s about not knowing how to live

with the weight you carry.

And maybe one day,

you’ll look at those scars and see something different.

Not shame. Not weakness.

But proof —

that you survived every version of yourself

that thought you couldn’t.

Because it’s more than just the cut.

It’s the healing that came after,

the courage it took to stay,

and the quiet strength of a heart

that refused to stop beating

even when it wanted to.