February 16, 2026

Dear Diary,

As my mind tightens against my chest, I find myself wandering if healing will ever begin. Will there ever be a day I wake up and just feel okay. Not great, not perfect, simply okay.

It would seem that I have spent the best part of my life lying to myself in order to survive. Only to reach a point of feeling as if I have never truly survived. If I am honest, I rarely feel as if I actually exist. This world belongs to the many people my life has greeted, and yet I am invisible to all.

I find myself carrying the weight of their world on my shoulders. A bitter heaviness craving small thanks or emotional enquiry. An expectation I set too high after teaching boundaries that reassured occupants, I am not important.

I placed myself here. I leapt into this task displaying a false confidence. My willingness to put everyone above myself, is an assumption I crafted on their behalf. Though I silently judge their inability to have seen through the act, telling myself how selfish this world of theirs is.