Bruise

There are emotions that I don’t talk about much, not because they’re dramatic, but because they linger like bruises. Not sharp, not loud. Just tender. A kind of ache I only notice when something brushes up against it unexpectedly. That sadness that doesn’t demand attention, but stays. Sometimes I wish I was better at crying. I bottle things up and then feel this quiet pressure building in my chest. But I’m learning that even bruises heal when they’re acknowledged. When I say, “yes, that hurt.” When I stop pretending I’m fine all the time. Healing’s not always loud either. Sometimes it’s just being honest.

• Emotion
• Silent