The Weight of Being First

They call me strong, but they don't know I never had the choice.

I was the test run. The blueprint. The fixer. The one who had to grow up while still trying to figure out how to be a kid. I learned to swallow my own emotions to make room for everyone else's.

No one really asked if I was okay. They just assumed I had to be.

Because I'm the eldest. Because I'm the example. Because I'm the one they look up to, even when I'm quietly falling apart.

I carried responsibilities that weren't mine, smiled through pressure I didn't ask for, and stayed soft in a world that kept hardening me.

But here's what they don't see, I get tired too. I break down too. I want someone to take care of me too.