You built a life everyone envies. You can't stand living in it.
From the outside it looks perfect. From the inside you're suffocating. Nobody asks how you're doing because they assume the answer.
You have the apartment. The title. The relationship.
Your Instagram looks like a brochure.
People tell you they wish they had your life.
You smile and say you're grateful.
You are drowning.
Every morning you wake up inside a life you designed for other people's approval.
The furniture was chosen for photos. The career was chosen for dinner parties.
Even the relationship was chosen because it looked right next to everything else.
Nobody asks if you're happy because the evidence seems obvious.
You stopped asking yourself because the answer was inconvenient.
Somewhere between the promotion and the mortgage you lost the plot.
You traded what you wanted for what looked impressive.
Now the impressive life needs maintenance and the real you needs oxygen.
You can't complain because people would kill for what you have.
So you stay quiet. Smile wider. Perform harder.
The display window gets shinier every year.
The person behind it gets smaller.
You built a monument to someone else's dream and moved into it.
The walls are closing in and nobody believes you because the walls are marble.
You decorated the cage so well that nobody believes you when you say you can't breathe.