I don’t know who needs to hear this, but just because someone smiles at brunch doesn't mean they're okay.
Let me say it louder for the people in the back: just because I laugh at your jokes, send heart emojis, or show up looking decent doesn’t mean I’m fine. It just means I’ve gotten really, really good at hiding the cracks.
That’s the thing about smiling depression—it doesn’t look like the movies. It’s not always crying in the shower or lying in bed for days on end. Sometimes, it’s showing up to work with winged eyeliner, replying to emails on time, cracking jokes, and then going home to cry in the dark while scrolling Instagram, pretending it’s just "one of those days."
Newsflash: it’s always one of those days.
You start performing normalcy like it’s a damn job. You become a master of small talk, a connoisseur of “I’m good, just tired,” and a loyal subscriber to the “as long as everyone else is okay, I’ll survive” mentality. You keep smiling, keep functioning, keep pretending—because the alternative feels heavier than anyone could understand.
And God forbid you break character.
Because the moment you stop smiling, people panic. They look at you like you’ve broken the illusion. “But you always seem so happy,” they say. As if sadness wears a hoodie and sits in the corner with a neon sign that says “I’m not okay.” No. Sometimes sadness wears a power suit, drinks oat milk lattes, and still answers texts with “lol.”
This isn’t a pity party. This is a call-out.
To the ones who feel invisible in their pain—you're not weak, you're not dramatic, and you're definitely not alone. You're just tired of pretending. And you’re allowed to be.
And to everyone else: check in. Not just when someone cancels plans or posts something sad on their story. Check in when everything looks perfect, when they’re “killing it,” when they seem like the strongest one in the room. Especially then.
Because smiling depression is a trap. It tricks people into thinking you’re okay. It tricks you into thinking maybe you are too. Until the dam breaks—and you realize no one even saw the flood coming.
So this is me, not smiling for a moment.
This is me saying: some of us are dying inside, and you wouldn’t know unless we told you.
Well, I’m telling you now.
