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Creative—content writer, article writer, storyteller and screenwriter @ University of Abuja
Abuja, Nigeria
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Invisible While Speaking
<p><br/></p><p>Some days,</p><p>I am fine.</p><p><br/></p><p>I laugh too loudly,</p><p>I tell stories,</p><p>I feel light…</p><p>like nothing in me has ever broken.</p><p><br/></p><p>And then,</p><p>there are days like that one.</p><p><br/></p><p>The worst day</p><p>wasn’t the pain itself.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’ve felt pain before…</p><p>sharp, sudden, explainable.</p><p><br/></p><p>This one was different.</p><p><br/></p><p>It sat inside me quietly,</p><p>growing louder</p><p>the more I tried to ignore it.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I spoke.</p><p><br/></p><p>I said it out loud,</p><p>hoping that would make it real enough</p><p>for someone else to see.</p><p><br/></p><p>“It hurts.”</p><p><br/></p><p>Simple. Honest.</p><p><br/></p><p>But it didn’t land.</p><p><br/></p><p>They looked at me</p><p>the way you look at a child</p><p>who cries over nothing.</p><p><br/></p><p>Confused.</p><p>Unconvinced.</p><p><br/></p><p>“Stop lying.”</p><p><br/></p><p>And just like that,</p><p>my pain lost its voice.</p><p><br/></p><p>I remember standing there,</p><p>feeling everything</p><p>and nothing at the same time.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because how do you prove</p><p>something no one is willing to believe?</p><p><br/></p><p>How do you explain a feeling</p><p>that already sounds like an excuse</p><p>to everyone else?</p><p><br/></p><p>I started to doubt it myself.</p><p><br/></p><p>Maybe it wasn’t that bad.</p><p>Maybe I was exaggerating.</p><p>Maybe I just needed to be stronger.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I swallowed it.</p><p><br/></p><p>The pain.</p><p>The words.</p><p>The need to be understood.</p><p><br/></p><p>And that was the worst part.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not that it hurt…</p><p>but that I was alone in it.</p><p><br/></p><p>Even in a room full of people,</p><p>even in a place that should have felt safe,</p><p>I learned what it means</p><p>to feel something so deeply</p><p>and still be told</p><p>it isn’t real.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now, some days,</p><p>I am still fine.</p><p><br/></p><p>I laugh.</p><p>I move on.</p><p>I forget.</p><p><br/></p><p>But other days,</p><p>it comes back…</p><p>not the pain itself,</p><p>but the memory of it.</p><p><br/></p><p>The silence.</p><p>The disbelief.</p><p>The way my truth</p><p>felt like a lie</p><p>in someone else’s ears.</p><p><br/></p><p>And I think that’s what stayed with me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not the hurt…</p><p>but the moment I realized</p><p>that sometimes,</p><p>you can be breaking</p><p>right in front of people…</p><p><br/></p><p>and still</p><p>have no witness.</p>
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