Invisiblynumb

From One

who says, “Don’t cry.

You’ll like it after a while.”

and Two who tells you thank-you

after the fact and can’t look at your face.

To Three who pays for your breakfast

and a cab home

and your mother’s rent.

To Four

who says,

“But you felt so good

I didn’t know how to stop.”

To Five who says giving your body

is tough

but something you do very well.

To Six

Who smells of tobacco

and says “Come on, I can feel that

you love this.”

To those who feel bad in the morning yes,

some feel bad in the morning

and sometimes they tell you

you want it

and sometimes you think that you do.

Thank heavens you’re resetting

ever setting and resetting

How else do you sew up the tears?

How else can the body survive?

ⁱᵐ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ

“I’m drowning.”

— “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I haven’t slept in days.”

— “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I don’t want to get out of bed.”

— “Let me know if you need anything.”

“It feels like everything is piling on top of me.”

— “Let me know if you need anything.”

Over and over,

I speak.

I crack open the door to my pain,

let pieces fall out,

quietly hoping someone will catch them.

But the words just echo back

into an empty hallway

with nothing but

“I’m here if you need anything”

to cushion the fall.

What does that even mean—

if no one’s really listening?

If no one knocks, no one checks in,

no one sits beside you

in the silence where words don’t reach.

Each time I say I’m not okay,

and it’s met with nothing but space,

it teaches me something:

my voice doesn’t matter here.

So I stop saying it.

I stop reaching out.

I stop hoping.

The loneliness grows louder.

The weight gets heavier.

And eventually,

even breathing feels like a burden.

“Let me know if you need anything”

isn’t comfort.

It’s a curtain drawn between me and the world.

It’s a phrase said to feel helpful,

without being helpful at all.

Because if no one listens,

if no one shows up,

then communication isn’t key—

it’s a locked door

with no one on the other side.

And eventually,

you stop knocking.

You stop trying.

You just let it all collapse.

I tear my heart open , I sew myself shut.

My weakness is.. that I care to much!