the way some voices still carry that particular, almost stretched quality around the edges of their words, even when they’re talking about achievements. it’s like a familiar tightening in my forearms, a ghost grip on the wheel of a machine i’m no longer driving. that kind of performative grind, it used to carve a hollow behind my eyes, a sort of permanent absence. that’s not a badge of honor, that’s just a deeper kind of exhaustion that never quite leaves the bones.