In life, there is a kind of suffering that is difficult for others to understand. It’s a special type of exhaustion, not because you've run a marathon or worked through the night, but because something inside you is weary. It's the kind of weariness that settles into your bones and spirit, and it doesn't show up like a bruise or a cut that you can point to and say, "Here, this is where it hurts."
This suffering is often silent and invisible to others. It doesn’t scream or cry out loud; it just sits there, heavy and silent. It doesn't have a clear name or a straightforward solution. This nameless injury doesn't bleed; it doesn't show up on an X-ray, but it's there, affecting how you move through life. It's an internal struggle that you carry quietly, often without recognition or understanding from others.
It comes from carrying burdens that are difficult to explain-emotional weights that you can't easily share because they might not make sense to anyone else, or they're so unique to your own journey that trying to put them into words feels impossible.
Sometimes, you find yourself in a room full of people who are all laughing and talking about something else, but you feel lonely in your suffering, even in a crowd.
This suffering is hard to describe. It’s as if it's a color no one has ever seen or a song no one has ever heard. When you try to explain it, words fail you, because how do you describe a sunset to someone who has never seen the sky? This is the kind of suffering that stays with you, unnamed because it doesn't fit into the usual categories of hurt we know.
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