Enough
I recently finished reading a book titled "I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki", and in all honesty, I wasn't prepared for how much it would move me. It wasn't merely a book — it was like someone had inserted their hand into my chest, extracted all the emotions I couldn't put into words, and spoken them out. Every feeling, every internal conflict, every silent moment of self-doubt it was all there. For once, I didn't feel so isolated the way I've felt for years. When Just Existing Feels Exhausting It's always been difficult for me to say how I feel. Not because I don't want to, but because I never know if I'll be heard… or judged. Most of the time, I remain silent not because I'm okay, but because I feel too much. And sometimes, too much feels like too dangerous a thing to show. I've wasted so long attempting to find myself fitting into spaces never intended for me. Playing like I fit in. Forcing smiles when I am anything but fi...