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82
The weight of A's
<p>I sit in the cold, dark </p><p>my torch the only source of light.</p><p>I ignore the bite of the air on my skin,</p><p>and the quiet protest of every aching limb.</p><p>"Focus," I whisper.</p><p>I can do this today.</p><p><br/></p><p>The clock ticks louder than my thoughts.</p><p>There's a test tomorrow.</p><p>An assignment due.</p><p>"Focus."</p><p>But my mind won’t obey .</p><p>no matter how much I plead.</p><p><br/></p><p>Even after long, painful hours</p><p>pored into these lifeless notes,</p><p>I show up tomorrow,</p><p>and the test paper asks questions</p><p>I answer with silence.</p><p>A silence so loud</p><p>it could fill the page </p><p>if only they could hear it.</p><p><br/></p><p>But it’s never just about the test.</p><p>It’s about how hard I try to function </p><p>how I push past my pain,</p><p>dragging heavy thoughts behind me</p><p>like chains.</p><p><br/></p><p>I try to crush every task,</p><p>show up, stay afloat,</p><p>and still </p><p>it never feels enough.</p><p><br/></p><p>It’s the kind of effort</p><p>that drains your spirit dry,</p><p>yet looks like nothing</p><p>on the outside.</p><p><br/></p><p>There’s pressure to be okay,</p><p>to smile, to keep pace,</p><p>to not be called lazy,</p><p>or unserious,</p><p>or weak.</p><p><br/></p><p>My mind and body</p><p>hang by threads.</p><p>Still, I stare at the page </p><p>the words, foreign and blurred.</p><p>Still, I try.</p><p><br/></p><p>And maybe one day,</p><p>these pages will speak back to me </p><p>not like strangers,</p><p>but like friends.</p><p><br/></p><p>Maybe one day,</p><p>my test scripts will hold answers</p><p>that match the questions.</p><p>Maybe one day,</p><p>this storm will quiet </p><p>and I’ll find peace</p><p>not just in surviving,</p><p>but in becoming.</p>
137
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