What They Don’t Tell You

I once believed that strength meant silence,
that real men didn’t cry,
that the world had to be faced alone.
I clenched my fists,
locked my heart in a cage,
tried to prove myself by never needing anyone.
But that was the lie.
The lie that said pain had to be swallowed whole,
that softness was for the weak,
that to be a man,
you had to build walls,
never let anyone in.

But I refuse to live that way anymore.
I reject the mask they gave me,
the one that says "toughen up,"
"don’t show them your scars."
I am more than that.
I am the strength in surrender,
the courage in letting go,
the power in knowing
it’s okay to be whole,
not broken.

And in that acceptance, I found a new truth:
strength isn’t always loud.
It isn’t in the roar,
but in the quiet moments,
when you let yourself be seen,
unafraid to fall,
unafraid to rise again.

They don’t tell you that strength doesn’t always roar,
that sometimes it’s the silence after a storm,
when your chest heaves with all the words you’ve never spoken.
They don’t tell you that there is power
in choosing not to fight,
in choosing to cry,
to let the tears fall not as weakness,
but as proof that you’re alive.

They don’t tell you that tenderness isn’t a flaw,
that holding someone close can be just as brave
as pushing them away.
They don’t tell you that it’s okay
to need someone.
To ask for help.
To break without breaking.

They don’t tell you that being a man
doesn’t mean carrying the weight of the world
on your shoulders alone.
Sometimes it means
letting go of the weight
and learning how to share it.

They don’t tell you that
real power is knowing
when to step back
and let your heart show.

And when I step into the light,
I see that this world is better—
more open, more honest,
more alive—
when we can speak freely,
love without fear,
and be who we truly are.

When men can dance without shame,
laugh without holding back,
and cry without fear of judgment—
we become more than what they told us we should be.
We become whole.

In a world where hearts are open,
where strength is found in vulnerability,
we don’t have to fight alone.
We don’t have to build walls,
because the bonds we create
are stronger than any armor.

And so, I let go.
I let go of the lies,
I let go of the pain,
and in the freedom,
I find peace—
in being human,
in being real.