You want to open up.
You want to say what’s on your mind.
But the reality is—most people won’t listen.
And when they do, they only hear what fits their version of you.
That truth has always broken my heart.
But what’s hurt me the most is this:
I felt like I could never go to my family.
I just had to be present and let them talk.
No room for my pain.
No room for my truth.
Most of my life, I fought that.
I tried to get them to hear me, see me, understand me.
But now I see—that was the error.
Sometimes, you just have to let people speak… even when they’re not saying anything real.
Time has shown me one thing if nothing else:
Most people don’t know what they’re looking at.
They miss the value. They miss the weight.
They misunderstand the strong ones most.
All my life, I had to be that strong one.
I had to fight the narratives others wrote for me.
And it’s come with a cost.
Trying to do the right thing.
Trying to consider everyone else’s needs.
Trying to move with integrity.
I found myself—
Short.
Drained.
Lacking.
But I’ve made peace with this.
If I have to die on a cross, I’ll do it knowing one thing:
No more young men should have to learn it the hard way.
That’s what I’m here for.
The most important thing to a man isn’t applause or approval.
It’s not money or praise.
It’s purpose.
Everything else builds on that foundation.
So when they say things like:
“You handled it so well.”
“You’re so strong.”
“You made it look easy.”
I just smile. But here’s the truth:
No. I did not.
I went insane.
I lost my spark.
I bled in silence.
I shattered alone.
I wore a smile that lied better than any mask ever could.
I didn’t handle it.
I survived it.
Because I had no choice.
And now? I speak.
So the next generation doesn’t have to wear the same mask.
