Hanging by a Thread

The Heavy Cost of Trying

I tell myself I am brave,

But it is the question I ask every single day:

Am I brave enough ?

Brave enough to face myself in the mirror,

After failing to reach my own potential ?

To face my family, who hold on to a fading glimmer of hope ?

To look for the friends I lost in the process of chasing my dreams ?

To face a world that demands so much of me ?

I am still trying to convince myself that I am brave,

But the reality is, I am hanging by a thread.

Will I be able to hold on to this thread forever and escape this black hole ?

Or will it snap, taking my last hope of ever feeling alive again ?

People look at me and say, "At least you’re trying."

They tell me to have faith, that things will get better.

But how do I tell them that this "trying" phase

Is simply too exhausting for my tired soul ?

It is a quiet kind of fatigue,

Not of the body, but of the spirit.

Where every sunrise feels like a demand,

And every sunset feels like a deadline I missed.

They see the steps I take,

But they do not see the gravity pulling at my heels.

Should I wait for someone to pull me out of this misery,

Or is it my sole responsibility to save myself ?

I tell the world that I am brave,

But only I know the terror of facing my own reflection.

Sleep fails me at night, but that is hardly a novelty anymore.

I walk down an empty, dark road,

Chasing a single ray of hope at the end of the tunnel.

I am still walking.

Alone, sometimes lonely, and always a little afraid.

But I am taking it one step at a time.

Perhaps bravery is not the absence of the dark,

Nor is it a guarantee that I will make it to the end unbroken.

Maybe bravery is simply the friction

Between my bleeding hands and this fraying thread.

Maybe staying alive,

Even when the tunnel feels endless,

Is the loudest roar I have left.

Am I brave enough to walk this empty road until I reach the light ?

Or will I lose myself entirely in the process ?