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103
Soulscribe
Student @ University of Ibadan
Student @ University of Ibadan
A Weakened Weekend
<p>My heart aches.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not for any one reason—</p><p>but for the ghosts of reasons</p><p>I thought I had buried.</p><p><br/></p><p>Past events.</p><p>Past emotions.</p><p>Past hurts—</p><p>the ones I have tried to conquer,</p><p>the ones I already told myself</p><p>I had conquered.</p><p><br/></p><p>Yet here they are,</p><p>quietly knocking</p><p>on a heart that is already tired.</p><p><br/></p><p>I feel exhausted.</p><p><br/></p><p>An exhaustion</p><p>I could swear</p><p>I have carried for millennials.</p><p>Yes, I know—</p><p>that is an exaggeration.</p><p><br/></p><p>But some exaggerations</p><p>are simply truths</p><p>too bitter to measure.</p><p><br/></p><p>I am drained</p><p>from struggling,</p><p>from reaching,</p><p>from chasing ambitions</p><p>with tired feet.</p><p><br/></p><p>Drained from fighting</p><p>for safety,</p><p>for peace,</p><p>for a little room</p><p>to breathe without wondering</p><p>what it will cost me.</p><p><br/></p><p>And somehow,</p><p>I feel caged.</p><p><br/></p><p>Stuck.</p><p><br/></p><p>Indebted.</p><p><br/></p><p>As though somewhere along the way,</p><p>I signed an invisible agreement</p><p>that said I must sacrifice my peace</p><p>to keep everything else standing.</p><p><br/></p><p>That perhaps</p><p>my emotional safety</p><p>is a price I must pay</p><p>for being loved,</p><p>for being helped,</p><p>for being understood,</p><p>for simply making it this far.</p><p><br/></p><p>And I wonder—</p><p><br/></p><p>Must there always be a bargain</p><p>between my heart</p><p>and my peace?</p><p><br/></p><p>Could we call a truce?</p><p><br/></p><p>Just for a while.</p><p><br/></p><p>Could the world stop asking me</p><p>to fight?</p><p><br/></p><p>Could my heart stop remembering</p><p>what my mind has already forgiven?</p><p><br/></p><p>Could I, for once,</p><p>lay down the weight</p><p>without feeling guilty</p><p>for leaving it there?</p><p><br/></p><p>I wish I could help myself.</p><p><br/></p><p>I really do.</p><p><br/></p><p>But today</p><p>I don't know how.</p><p><br/></p><p>I only know</p><p>that I feel myself slipping—</p><p>not away from everything,</p><p>but away from the version of me</p><p>that always knows how to hold on.</p><p><br/></p><p>And maybe that is what frightens me most.</p><p><br/></p><p>So this weekend,</p><p>I will not pretend to be strong.</p><p><br/></p><p>I will not dress exhaustion</p><p>in beautiful words</p><p>and call it courage.</p><p><br/></p><p>This is a “weakened” weekend.</p><p><br/></p><p>A weekend of aching.</p><p>Of breathing.</p><p>Of trying not to disappear</p><p>beneath everything I have carried.</p><p><br/></p><p>And if all I can do</p><p>is stay—</p><p><br/></p><p>then perhaps,</p><p>for today,</p><p><br/></p><p>staying is enough. 💔</p>
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