I remember you so clearly. Always smiling, always cracking jokes, always being the one who lightened the room. No one knew that the laughter came from a place of survival. No one saw how you used humor to cover the ache sitting quietly in your chest. You fooled them all, didn’t you? Sometimes, even you believed the act.
You were so good at pretending that you forgot how to stop. You told yourself that being strong meant being cheerful. That people wouldn’t stay if you showed them sadness. You made pain look graceful. You carried it so quietly that no one ever thought to ask if you were okay.
You did what you had to do, and I want you to know I understand why. You weren’t being fake. You were trying to protect yourself in the only way you knew how. You used laughter as a shield because it was easier than explaining why you felt empty.
Still, it hurts to think of how alone you must have felt. Smiling while breaking inside. Making others laugh while wishing someone could just sit with your silence. I wish I could go back and hold you, tell you that it’s safe to be honest. That you don’t have to earn love by being the funny one, the strong one, or the one who never cries.
You don’t have to hide anymore. You don’t have to turn your pain into a performance. You can breathe now. You can let yourself feel everything you once pushed away.
Your laughter doesn’t have to be a disguise. It can finally come from peace.
With tenderness,
The you who finally learned to rest.