Fragments, 25 September 2025

I am scared that life is slipping.
I am caught between my own ambitions and my parents’ expectations.
I have not read a book in two months.
I have not slept without an alarm in years.
Despite the alarm, I wake from nightmares of not doing enough.
I am always either anxious or burnt out.
Burnout feels safer than anxiety.
At least then my heart rests.
I regret being an ‘overachiever’.
It feels like a weight I cannot drop.
I wonder if I can keep this up.
People tell me I will rest someday.
I do not believe them.
I fear that despite proving myself every day, I will have to fight until my last breath to show my birthgivers I am enough.
I hate fighting them so they will not undersell me to “prospective future husbands.”
I hate that not having a Y chromosome makes me somehow less in their eyes.
They do not say it.
Their actions speak it anyway.
I feel close to crumbling.
I fear it is only a matter of time.