Her Plea
When she texts too much —
her mother, her father, her brother, her sister, her friend —
it’s not a cry for attention.
It’s not a plea for validation.
It’s a plea for help.
A plea for someone to listen.
For someone to see past the surface, past the “lol’s” and the jokes.
A plea for someone to see that she is hurting.
She wants nothing from you but a response.
A response that makes her feel less alone.
A response that shows she matters, even when she’s overanalyzing everything.
A response that notices she is not okay.
She is struggling.
You may not see it.
She hides it behind jokes:
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I’m just being dramatic.”
“I’m just emotional.”
“I’m not breaking. I’m not hurting. You don’t have to worry.”
But maybe you do.
Maybe she’s minimizing it.
Maybe she’s carrying the weight of her own pain — and everyone else’s — alone.
They don’t want to see her pain.
Her illness.
How much it affects her.
And she doesn’t want them to see.
Will they truly understand?
Have they even tried?
A girl with two chronic illnesses,
trying to be there for everyone but herself —
or will they dismiss her because they don’t understand?
Because they didn’t make an effort?
Her suffering isn’t enough to be seen.
She isn’t enough to be seen.
Her physical and mental pain become
just another conversation,
something they think she’s exaggerating
or using for sympathy.
No one knows the pain she feels
inside herself, outside herself,
for the people around her.
She carries it every day.
Every day it gets heavier.
Every day it wears her down more.
Every day she is tired.
And every day she hopes
someone will notice
before the weight becomes too heavy to carry anymore
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