I was always the “she will be fine” child. The one everyone trusted to figure things out, the one who never needed help or at least, that’s what they thought. People saw my strength, my independence, the way I fought my own battles. But did anyone see the part of me that quietly wished someone would pause and ask, are you okay?
I carried so much, quietly. Always adjusting, always understanding, always trying to be enough. Giving so freely, so easily, that the world seemed to forget to give back. And sometimes, I still feel it, the quiet loneliness, the ache of being unseen, the moments when being strong felt heavier than anyone could imagine.
But I want to believe that I am seen. That the universe notices every sigh I swallow, every burden I carry alone, every quiet act of endurance. And maybe, one day, the people who only saw my strength will finally see the heart behind it. They will hear the words I’ve been longing for: “You don’t have to be the strong one.”
Until then, I remind myself and maybe you Ying, that you deserve the same love. That care is not just for others; it is for me as well. And it’s okay to let someone in. It’s okay to be the daughter, the person, who isn’t always fine.