10/10/2025
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ | In Silence, It Bleeds
There is something profoundly fragile about being human. We are taught to treat pain when it bleeds, to rush to the wounded when the blood stains through. But what about the pain that hidesโsilent, shapeless, yet consuming? The kind that no X-ray can reveal, no stethoscope can hear, no medicine can cure.
Some illnesses live quietly beneath steady smiles and calm voices. They donโt ask for attention; they ask for relief. Yet because the world cannot see them, it often forgets they exist. People look at the unshaken hands, the composed posture, and say, โYouโre fine.โ But what if, inside, the soul is screaming? What if the heart has been bleeding all along, just not in a way anyone can see?
Itโs easy to believe in whatโs visible. The bandages, the crutches, the hospital bedsโthey tell stories the eyes can witness. But mental pain tells no such story. It hides behind laughter, behind the quiet โIโm okay,โ behind the habit of showing up even when it hurts. It lingers like a ghostโuninvited, unwanted, but impossible to escape.
There are those who wake up every morning already exhausted from a battle no one knows theyโre fighting. They smile through the ache, laugh through the heaviness, and carry on because the world rarely pauses for invisible pain. And when they finally whisper for help, the response is too often disbeliefโโYouโre just being dramatic.โ โYou just need to be stronger.โ โOther people have it worse.โ Words that wound more than any weapon ever could.
Mental illness doesnโt always look like a breakdown. Sometimes, it looks like attending class, going to work, or chatting with friendsโwhile slowly fading inside. Itโs the silent scream at 3 a.m., the heartbeat racing from nowhere, the trembling hands trying to type a message that says, please help me, but deleting it before pressing send.
Every 10th of October, the world honors Mental Health Dayโa day to remind ourselves that what we cannot see can still be breaking someone apart. That empathy should not depend on visibility. That love, care, and understanding can save lives even when medicine cannot.
We must learn to listenโto truly listenโnot to reply, but to understand. To recognize that not every strong person is unhurt, and not every quiet one is at peace. Sometimes, the strongest people are the ones who get up after nights of tears. Sometimes, the quietest ones are carrying the loudest storms inside.
Mental health is not just a matter of mindโit is a matter of being. It is the foundation of our peace, our clarity, our ability to love and live fully. And when it falters, the world should not turn away. Because to care for someoneโs mind is to care for their humanity.
It may not bleed. It may not require bandages or machines. But it hurtsโdeeply, endlessly, quietly. And it deserves to be seen.
To everyone who has ever felt unseen: you matter more than you know. The world may not always understand your pain, but that does not make it any less real. You are not weak for feeling. You are not dramatic for hurting. You are not alone for struggling.
Please, hold on. Even when your hands tremble, even when your heart feels too heavy to carry, even when the light seems too far awayโhold on. Because healing is not always loud. Sometimes, it begins in silence, in rest, in the small act of choosing to stay.
You matter.
Your mind matters.
Your existence matters.
And may you always find, even in your darkest hours, the quiet arms of compassion reaching out to youโreminding you that you are seen, you are loved, and you are not alone.
Words by Rhea Vinluan
Layout by Justine Rose Martinez
