There's a certain kind of tiredness you never mention to anyone. Not the physical kind, the kind that comes from pretending you're fine for longer than you should. It shows up in stupid places. In the way you stare at your phone before replying. In the way you rehearse a normal tone before answering a call. In the way you keep choosing the lighter version of the truth because the full one feels like too much work. You start realising you're not drained by life. You're drained by how often you keep yourself together for the sake of being "easy" to deal with. And it hits you one day, very quietly: you've been strong for so long you don't even notice when you're doing it anymore.