Sometimes I...

Sometimes I feel like I’m the last real lover left in a world that’s forgotten how to love without fear.

I feel like I pour into people more than they could ever pour into me. Like I’m the well they run to when they’re dry, but when I’m empty – there’s no one there with a bucket. The ones closest to me seem to need me more than I’ve ever needed them.

I know – sounds selfish, maybe even narcissistic, right? But it's just how I feel sometimes. Like I’m built to hold everyone else, and no one’s built to hold me.

I feel like I drown in emotions others barely touch. Almost like I live beneath the surface where feelings aren’t just felt – they echo. Like how I’m able to harness a piece of your pain and sorrow to mine without having to give you a piece in return. How everyone has gotten so used to venting out to me they forgot how sometimes I also fail to breathe.

At times, I think I’ve chosen solitude, shaped by the wreckage of the love I grew up watching and continue to watch today. Where celebrated couples express their love built on a foundation of lies. Can you believe we’ve come to a point where peace in love is met with suspicion, and chaos is called passion? How we’ve glamorized dysfunction so much that a love without it feels like a myth – or worse, a joke.  

I feel like my perceptions about people are almost always right.

Sometimes, I wear the wounds of broken trust like a shadow that never leaves. How I'm just supposed to forget about it, but you’d never be able to take it. How I’m forever the understanding soul, yet always the one most wounded. How I offer grace with open hands, only to be cut by the ones I cradle.  

Sometimes I feel like people don’t deserve me.

I feel like I don’t stand up for myself enough. How I got so good at holding it all in. Nurturing my pain like a pet, using it more as an ally than a foe. I sometimes feel like I don’t forgive, and I don’t forget. I carry it all. Not out of spite, but as a reminder that not everyone is meant to stay.

I feel like disappointment has been the story of my life for as long as I can remember.

I feel like I’ve been both happy and sad, but sad way more.

I feel like I’m always tearing up, but nothing ever comes out. I feel like I hold back my tears, knowing that once they fade, I’ll just return to the same silence they tried to escape. Tears never rewrite the ending.

Sometimes I feel like you can never love someone as much as you can miss them. How pain somehow always wins despite how happy you aspire to be.

I feel like one of the reasons I have never considered suicide is because of my desire to experience true love. I sometimes feel life is only half-lived without the quiet comfort of knowing someone out there is meant for you. It feels like life misses a note – the one sung only when you know someone out there is your home.  

Sometimes I feel like I’m at my best when I’m alone, and it scares me.

I feel like my mother is the only person on this planet who truly gets me. She is love in every form.

Sometimes I wonder how my friends carry their grief – What memories haunt them in the silence of the night. Do they lie awake like I do, tracing my pain in the dark, or have they found a way to tuck it behind their smiles? They seem so happy and whole, and I can’t tell if they’ve healed or if they’re just better at pretending than I am.


 

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