They called it resilience. You called it Tuesday.
Your smile is fluent.
Effortless. Weaponized.
You smile through meetings.
Through tantrums.
Through grief.
Through men who talk too loud and women who apologize for needing help.
You smiled at the funeral.
You smiled when they asked too much.
You smiled instead of screaming.
Because no one would’ve heard the scream anyway.
You’ve performed so long
you’ve forgotten which parts of you were ever real—
and which were just palatable.
This is where that ends.
You are not here to be pleasant.