Sometimes I wish I could step back —

into old pages,

when it was easier to breathe,

when love felt real,

when happiness was not something, I had to chase.

I cannot remember the last time

I had the strength

to walk under the sky and see it.

When I lay against someone’s chest

and believed I was safe.

When I laughed so hard it hurt,

when the sunrise was just for me,

when life did not feel like a weight pressing down.

Now —

what does it even feel like,

to be happy?

Not just breathing,

not just waking up and going through the steps

because I have to.

I want to want tomorrow.

I want to matter to something,

to someone,

to myself.

But this girl growing inside me —

God, I wanted her.

I wanted her.

And still,

I feel more trapped than I ever have.

It is not her fault.

It’s not her fault.

But no one tells you how lonely it is,

how heavy it gets,

how you can love someone

and still feel like you are disappearing.

Will I ever stop reaching for a life

I know I cannot get back.

I wake up clawing at the air,

gasping,

gripping the sheets —as

it’s not the dreams,

it’s my life

that’s suffocating me.

18 weeks.

and I am already drowning.