it’s a strange kind of emptiness, needing someone to talk to but finding urself sitting there, listening instead. u always tell urself that maybe dis time, they’ll notice - the slight hesitation in ur voice, the way u pause too long before answering. maybe they’ll hear the weight u r carrying, the words u dun say. but sadly, they dun.
U sit there, nodding along, as their stories unfold. u try to stay present, to genuinely care, because u always do. u always have. but inside, there’s dis quiet ache, a small voice asking, "when will it be my turn?". not out of selfishness, but out of dat very human need to feel seen, to feel like wat ur holding inside matters too.
and then comes the guilt. for feeling dis way. for wishing they wld pause, for they'd jst shut the fcuk up for a lil while, jst for a moment, and ask how ur doing. u tell urself their struggles r valid, dat they need u. and so, u push ur feelings aside again, swallowing the lump in ur throat becoz u dun want to interrupt their flow. but afterward, when the conversation ends and u r left alone wit ur thoughts, shyte the silence is deafening.
u wonder if u’ve made urself invisible - if u’ve become so good at being the one who listens, the one who understands, dat u’ve forgotten how to ask for the same in return. maybe ur too quiet, too guarded. or maybe u’ve learned, over time, to pretend everythg is fine, even when it’s not. and dat pretense has become so convincing dat no one even thinks to ask.
it’s not their fault, really. they’re not being selfish, and u knw they care in their own way. but it’s hard. it’s hard when the weight ur carrying feels heavier becoz u’ve been holding it alone for so long.
sometimes, u catch urself imagining wat it wld feel like if someone looked at u and said, “wat about u? how r u doing?” jst dat. simple, but so profound.
maybe one day, u’ll learn how to ask for dat. to let someone in. to believe dat ur silence deserves to be broken, too.
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