I have become very good at pretending that nothing is heavier than the body was made to carry. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and bent is the spine that bears weight. Being the one everyone believes will survive, no one notices how slowly a person disappears when they spend all their days remaining dependable. I suppose that is what love can become too. Not always kisses. Sometimes simply refusing to let another person see you shaking, quietly bargaining with tomorrow’s relief. Forgive me if one day I become quieter than the version of me you first met. I spent too long trying to become everything for everyone. If I should ever change, promise me you will not accuse time. It was never time but accumulation. Tiny things stacking themselves inside a single life. The quiet expectation that I would endure another disappointment. Another obligation. So if you find me a little slower, and less interested in proving how much I can survive, do not be sad for who I used to be. Love me enough to celebrate the person who finally chose not to disappear for the sake of remaining admirable. But until then, stay right here in the quiet opiate. Drink it in with me. Let it blur the edges. If we drown out the pressure, we can pretend the weight isn't breaking us. Let the sedation take the rest of the room. I will hold the sky for us a little longer, even if it kills me. Because heavy is the head that wears the crown, and bent is the spine that bears weight. Mizuyōkaii, 2026 Dimensions: 4570x5680