HEAVY

It feels heavy again.

That uncomfortable weight I can’t quite explain, only sit with.

The pain isn’t always direct. Sometimes it’s in what’s implied, in what’s not said properly, but still understood.

And I catch myself trying to make sense of it, trying to justify it in my own head just so I can deal with it. But there’s nothing clean about it. Nothing gentle either.

I want to leave.

I want space.

I want to grow.

But it doesn’t feel like that’s allowed.

Because when things shift, everything shifts.

And maybe that’s not something we can handle right now.

So I pull back instead.

Smaller. Quieter.

I say sorry when I don’t even know if I should.

I hold things in because saying them out loud changes the balance.

And somewhere deep down, there’s this thought I don’t like admitting:

if nothing changes for you, then nothing can change for me either.

So it stays like this.

This stuck place.

Where growing feels like too much, and staying feels like the only option.

©️ Lyia Meta