The strongest people are the ones nobody realizes are fighting.
They wear masks to shield their pain from other eyes, stretching lips into convincing Cheshire cat grins and eyes wide with wonder. These are the people who step in to comfort you, though no one notices the scars they wear on skin, hearts, and soul. They make up a race of survivors, of spirits too often put down and trampled on. Yet they stand back up, never allowing another pair of eyes to see the stampede’s footprints on their backs.
The strongest people are the ones nobody realizes are fighting, bleeding, screaming silently, and yet still living.
They suffer in silence, instead of shouting to the cosmos of all the ways they’re scared and scarred. When other’s expect society to run towards them with open arms, to heal their wounds and scatter their tears, this unseen population of Strong and Silent remain zip-lipped. They believe that backbone and tough skin will get them by, help them survive, and they’re unaware that it’s a lie.
The strongest people in the world have scratched up souls, but they don’t allow anyone to see.
Its a population of you, them, and me.
And we’re convinced we need to suffer alone, in the shadows. We’re not hiding, we just don’t want to be a burden. We sit in silence while others suffocate us with their woes, though they don’t listen to ours.
They don’t ask.
So here is to ever member of the Strong and Silent. Here is to the boys and girls who think they are alone, unknowing we are a full society of secret keepers. Here is to those of backbone and tough skin, too often reminded of the painful world we’re in.
I’m here. I’ll listen. I’ll see your scars and try to heal them with my own.
Just know…you’re not alone.
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