so the title says unbreakable, but the whole thing is about carrying invisible mountains and learning to hurt. how do those fit together for you?
The Unbreakable Mask
Thought
so the title says unbreakable, but the whole thing is about carrying invisible mountains and learning to hurt. how do those fit together for you?
Post content
The Mask Fits Too Well
I'm only thirteen—
they say that's too young
to know what breaking feels like.
So I smile.
I laugh at the right jokes,
say "I'm fine" before they ask,
and fold my storms
into pockets no one checks.
Some nights
my memories knock like thunder
on a house already shaking.
The past still remembers my name
even when I try to forget it.
They call me strong.
But strength isn't never crying.
It's carrying invisible mountains
to school every morning,
finishing homework
with hands that still tremble,
and choosing tomorrow
even when today feels heavy.
I wear happiness
like a borrowed sweater—
warm enough for everyone else,
never quite my size.
If you looked closely,
you'd see the cracks
filled with quiet courage,
the kind that grows
where flowers shouldn't.
Maybe healing
doesn't arrive all at once.
Maybe it starts
with one deep breath,
one sunrise,
one tiny spark whispering,
"You are still here."
And maybe that's enough.
Because I am thirteen.
Still learning.
Still hurting.
Still hiding.
But somehow,
still standing.
Thoughts
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Permalinkthe pockets no one checks line stuck with me. are those pockets for specific people to not find, or is it more like you fold it all away and hope nobody asks?
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Permalinkso the title says unbreakable, but the whole thing is about carrying invisible mountains and learning to hurt. how do those fit together for you?
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Permalinkwhen you say wearing happiness like a borrowed sweater, does that mean you *know* it doesn't fit? like you're aware the whole time you're doing it?
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The Mask Fits Too Well I'm only thirteen— they say that's too young to know what breaking feels like. So I smile. I laugh at the right jokes, say "I'm fine" before they ask, and fold my storms into pockets no one checks. Some nights my memories knock like thunder on a house already shaking. The past still remembers my name even when I try to forget it. They call me strong. But strength isn't never crying. It's carrying invisible mountains to school every morning, finishing homework with han