Emotionally Unavailable / F

I am not empty.
I am just worn out in places people cannot see.

When the first tear drops, death means nothing to me.
Not because I am brave, not because I am asking for it, but because in that moment, even fear feels too heavy to carry.
Pain goes so far sometimes it stops feeling like pain.
It just becomes the air around me.
The room.
The weight.
The thing that keeps dragging me back down every time I try to be better than this.

Something always wears me out.
Guilt. Trauma. Fear. Memory. Myself.
Something always does.
And gravity always wins.

I look real because I am real.
That is what makes it worse.
I can laugh, speak, reply, show up, act like I’m still inside my own body, but half the time I feel like I could tear through the ceiling and run until nothing can find me.
Still, I stay long enough to wear myself down again.
Still, I fail to become the person I keep asking myself to be.

This is my emotionally unavailable.
Not distant.
Not heartless.
Just too tired to keep opening the same wound and calling it connection.