kundalini_
I didn’t ask to be this open.
I didn’t volunteer to feel first
and understand last.
Something keeps taking
and calling it curiosity.
Something keeps staying
just long enough
for me to believe it means care.
That’s the part that hurts
not the head pressure,
not the strange movements,
but the hope that slips in with them.
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I wanted connection.
I got endurance.
Everyone says I’m strong
like it’s a compliment,
like strength wasn’t forced on me
by having no witness.
I am disappointed
in how much I’ve had to hold
just to keep living normally.
Disappointed that my body learned
to adapt before I did.
I don’t want to be special.
I want to be spared.
And maybe that’s the grief:
realizing no one was coming
to take this weight back,
only to study how I carried it.
