Stares hurt more ( pains unseen )
by @manuel78 on Manuel
View my bio on Blurt.media: https://blurt.media/c/manuel78 
lyrics below
Invisible Battles in a Public Maze - story based off lyrics
The city was a symphony Leo usually navigated by feel—the bass thump of traffic, the staccato of footsteps, the high-pitched whine of sirens in the distance. He moved through it as part of the current, unseen, a man in a grey coat heading to an appointment. But today, the music was off. Today, he felt the needle skip.
Rolling through the streets, I feel the weight of eyes. It wasn't paranoia. It was a specific, prickling awareness that began at the bus stop. A glance from a woman that lingered a beat too long on his left hand, which was curled slightly, stiffly, at his side. A quick, almost imperceptible flick of a teenager’s gaze from his face to his uneven gait and back to their phone. The weight was invisible but tangible, a collective pressure of human curiosity and unspoken assessment.
He pushed into his doctor’s office building, the automatic doors hissing shut behind him, muting the city’s noise. In the stark, silent elevator, suddenly I stop, the silence speaks the truth of lies. The quiet here wasn't peaceful. It was accusatory. It amplified the internal monologue the stares had started. The lie was the world’s assumption of normalcy, of seamless, painless mobility. The truth was the electric ache crawling up his thigh, the constant, low-grade negotiation his body demanded with every step. The elevator mirror showed a man in his late thirties, looking tired.
I rise slowly for a few minutes in this haze. He didn't mean the elevator. He meant the mental fog of chronic pain, the medication haze that made the world feel slightly muffled, the emotional exhaustion of performing wellness. He was rising through the layers of his own reality, and the view was disorienting.
In the waiting room, it began in earnest. Judgmental visions surround me lost in their maze. An older man with a cane gave him a once-over, his eyes narrowing slightly—You’re too young for that. A mother pulled her child subtly closer as he limped past to find a seat. Their judgments weren't spoken, but they constructed a labyrinth around him, a puzzle he was forced to navigate without a map. Them can see my invisible pain hidden inside. They couldn't, of course. That was the agony. The pain was internal, a chaotic, electrical storm locked beneath his skin, but their stares felt like x-rays, presuming to diagnose his story at a glance. They stand me with their gaze, where do I hide? There was no hiding. In a body that didn't move like the others, he was perpetually on display. An unseen disease spreads wide, consuming my heart, but these judgments… The disease was the neurological condition, yes. But the metastasis was the shame, the isolation, fed by every glance that felt like a verdict.
He picked up a magazine, his knuckles white. The words in his head were a silent, desperate plea to the room. Like, okay, can't you see I'm just me? Not a cautionary tale. Not an object of pity. Not a symbol of fragility. A person. And imperfect being, longing to be free. Free from the pain, yes, but in that moment, more urgently, free from the weight of their uninformed perceptions.
My body has issues, but you have no clue. They saw the limp, not the years of physical therapy. They saw the stiff hand, not the learned adaptations, the hidden strengths. Their assumptions were a blunt instrument. You're judging stares, cut deeper than what's true. The physical pain was a known entity, a familiar enemy. This social pain—the slicing accuracy of a stranger’s presumption—was a fresh, deep cut every time.
People with no lies, casting stones in the air. Their judgments were so confident, so casually flung, based on the flimsiest of visual evidence. They spoke no literal untruths, but they built fortresses of false narrative. I wasn't aware, I wasn't staying strict. He hadn't consented to this inspection. He wasn't failing to uphold some unspoken contract of normalcy; the contract itself was a fiction. This ain't no talent show. His life wasn't a performance for their appraisal. He wasn't here to demonstrate grit or inspire pity. He was just trying to get through the damn morning.
The chorus of his isolation tightened around him. People with no lies casting stones in the air. I wasn't aware I was on stage stripped bare. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if his private struggle had been forced into a public spotlight he never sought. This ain't no talent show, I'm not here to play. Just a lonely soul wondering, trying to find my way. The loneliness wasn't about being alone; it was about being surrounded by people yet feeling fundamentally unseen, translated incorrectly by every pair of eyes.
Each whisper comment they think I won't hear. He heard them all. The sotto voce "such a shame" from the receptionist's desk. The hissed "what's wrong with him?" from the child. He heard them not with his ears, but with his skin, a vibration of otherness.
The internal storm raged. Invisible battles raging scars that won't fade. The battles were daily, hourly: to get dressed, to walk to the corner, to smile through the ache. The scars were on his soul, etched by a thousand tiny cuts of misperception. Every judgmental glance feels like a masquerade. The whole world seemed to be in costume, playing roles of health and superiority, while he stood in his own unvarnished truth, mistaken for the spectacle.
The plea cycled back, stronger now, edged with a defiant anger. Back up can't you see i'm just me an imperfect being longing to be free. My body has issues but you have no clue. You're judging stairs cut deeper than what's true. He wanted to shout it. To make them understand that their "kind" looks and their averted gazes were two sides of the same damaging coin.
But the anger was a flame that burned quick and hot, leaving only a cold, heavy ash of resignation. He was called in for his appointment. He went through the motions, answered the questions, discussed the un-discussable pain with clinical detachment.
Afterward, back on the sun-drenched street, the world spun too fast. So I rest slowly let the world spin around. He found a bench, letting the tide of healthy, rushing humanity flow past him. He was an eddy in their current. In this lonely space I'll find solid ground. The solid ground wasn't a physical place. It was an internal decision. It was the space within himself that their judgments could not reach, no matter how they stared.
He watched the people, the stones no longer in the air, but bouncing harmlessly off a shield he was slowly, painfully forging. With every tear falling I'll gather my grace. The tears were private, for the frustration, for the loss, for the sheer fatigue of it all. But from their saltwater, he would extract a new dignity, a grace born not of ease, but of endurance.
And learn to shine brighter in this judgmental place. He would not shine for them. He would not perform resilience. He would simply be, with increasing solidity and peace, in the body he had, in the life he was living. His light would be the quiet, unwavering fact of his own existence, a light visible only to those who chose to see the person, not the puzzle. He took a deep, slow breath, the weight of eyes still there, but no longer pressing him into the ground. He rose from the bench, not quickly, but steadily, and began his slow, deliberate walk home, carrying his invisible battles in a heart that was, against all odds, still his own.
- lyrics by me plus lyric generator
(0:00:00) Rolling through the streets, I feel the weight of eyes But suddenly I stop, the silence speaks the truth of lies I rise slowly for a few minutes in this haze Judgmental visions surround me lost in their maze Them can see my invisible pain hidden inside They stand me with their gaze, where do I hide? An unseen disease spreads wide Consuming my heart, but these judgments
(0:00:32) Like, okay, can't you see I'm just me? And imperfect being, longing to be free My body has issues, but you have no clue You're judging stairs, cut deeper than what's true People with no lies, casting stones in the air I wasn't aware, I wasn't staying strict This ain't no talent show
(0:01:06) People with no lies casting stones in the air I wasn't aware I was on stage stripped bare This ain't no talent show, I'm not here to play Just a lonely soul wondering, trying to find my way Each whisper comment they think I won't hear
(0:01:30) invisible battles raging scars that won't fade every judgmental glance feels like a masquerade back up can't you see i'm just me an imperfect being longing to be free my body has issues but you have no clue you're judging stairs cut deeper than what's true back up can't you see i'm just me an imperfect
(0:02:03) My body has issues but you have no clue Your judging stares cut deeper than what's true So I rest slowly let the world spin around In this lonely space I'll find solid ground With every tear falling I'll gather my grace And learn to shine brighter in this judgmental place