They walk with stone faces,
barely breathing through their own skin,
wearing numb like a name tag
“Hello, I’m fine,”
when fine is just another word for hiding.
They sip silence
like it quenches something,
but thirst still clings to their ribs.
They scroll, swipe, smile through glass,
pretending emptiness is elegance.
But I—
I want to feel.
Let it wreck me.
Let it rush through like summer rain,
stinging, sweet,
pulling truth from the parts I’ve buried.
I want to ache when it’s real.
To laugh like I might lose the sound forever.
To cry for the world and still believe in it.
Because to feel
is the fiercest kind of freedom.
To stand wide open in a world that shuts down
is rebellion.
It’s bravery.
So let them pretend.
Let them walk their hollow path.
I will keep choosing the fire of feeling,
the chaos of connection,
the pulse of presence.
I am not here to be untouched
I am here to be alive.
Dose of chevvi 