hurt – Martytalks Daliy

The Hard Lesson About Boundaries

I used to think that if your intentions were good, you couldn’t really hurt someone. I know better now. There was a time when I thought friendship meant being all in—always stepping up, always getting involved, always offering my opinion if I thought it could help. If I saw a friend hurting, I wanted toContinue reading “The Hard Lesson About Boundaries”

Everyone But Me

I wear my cape invisible— stitched together with silence and savior complexes. I’m the fixer, the shoulder, the late-night voice that picks up at 3AM when you call crying, even when I’m drowning too. I’ve patched up heartbreak with duct tape words, stitched shattered self-esteem with borrowed prayers, held hands through storms I wasn’t strongContinue reading “Everyone But Me”

“Choose Who Chooses You”

I used to chase shadows, people with smiles like mirages— looked like love from a distance but vanished when I got too close. I gave my best to hands that never held me back. Poured my soul into empty cups hoping they’d overflow when they barely even dripped effort. You ever bend over backwards justContinue reading ““Choose Who Chooses You””

When Everything Is Everything: Living with Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, and Bipolar Disorder

There’s no easy way to start a post like this, so I’m just going to say it straight: living with multiple mental health conditions is a lot. It’s more than a full-time job, more than a weight—it’s an entire storm system, and I live inside of it every single day. Last night was one ofContinue reading “When Everything Is Everything: Living with Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, and Bipolar Disorder”

My Body Won’t Let Me Die

Spoken Word by Marty I’ve been lying in bed, with the weight of the world pressing full against my chest— not like Atlas carrying the globe, more like being the pavement beneath it. Cracked, silent, invisible until someone trips over me. All I want to do is vanish, fade like fog in morning heat. NotContinue reading “My Body Won’t Let Me Die”

The Weight I Wear

I wake up before the sun has even sighed, and wear a smile like armor— not joy. Just a habit. A mask. Another role I didn’t ask for. They call me strong. Reliable. “Solid.” But solid doesn’t mean whole. It means no room to fall apart. I say “I’m fine” like it’s a reflex, likeContinue reading “The Weight I Wear”