They call me the strong friend.
The one who never bends.
The one who helps put broken hearts back together,
again and again.
I carry everyone’s storms,
stand tall through the rain,
but nobody ever stops to ask
if I’m carrying pain.
I’m the “you got this”
and the “it’ll be okay.”
The one who stays up all night
just to help someone else through the day.
I give advice.
I give my time.
I tell everybody else
they’re going to be fine.
But when my smile starts to fade,
when my own skies turn gray,
people seem surprised
that I have bad days.
Maybe it’s because I got so good
at hiding what’s true.
At saying “I’m okay”
when I’m barely making it through.
I laugh a little louder.
I act a little tough.
Because if I’m the strong friend,
isn’t that supposed to be enough?
But strength isn’t never crying.
Strength isn’t never breaking apart.
Sometimes strength is admitting
you’re carrying too much in your heart.
So if you know someone
who always seems strong,
check on them too.
They’ve been carrying people
for way too long.
Because even the strongest shoulders
can get tired from the weight.
And even the friend who saves everyone else
needs someone to stay.
