HeartTalk: No One is There

You know… I really thought people understood. I really thought you did. That if I gave enough—if I gave everything, I would be enough. That there's someone somewhere who would notice. That they would care.

But now… look at me. Just look at me. Here I am, alone, surrounded by this silence and yearning and begging for somebody—anybody—to come for me, to show up for me the way I showed up for them, gave to them, without ever asking for anything in return. And nobody's here. Nobody ever is.

Isn't it funny? The irony, I mean. I built my whole life around being there for people. Picking up the pieces for them. Carrying their weight, their struggles, their pain—like it was mine to carry. And I did it willingly. Gladly. Because I thought… I thought they'd do the same for me when the time came.

But here I am now, falling apart, and where are they? Where are you? I don't see anyone. Do you even care? Do you even see me? Or was I just convenient? Was my love and my time and my energy just something to take and leave behind?

I don't know what else to do anymore. I've done everything. Everything I could. I give and give until I have nothing left, and yet, it is like I am nothing. The things I do don't matter. And the love, well, that's just worthless. And now, when I need—somebody—when I need someone—to see the cracks, to notice how broken I feel, to hold me together... there's no one. No one hears me. No one sees me. No one... is here.

And you know what? It's not fair. It's just not. I don't care if I'm selfish for saying it, I don't care if it makes me sound weak—it’s not fair. I gave so much. Too much. And what do I have to show for it? Loneliness. Silence. This empty, gnawing feeling that I'll never be enough for anyone, no matter how hard I try.

But maybe… maybe this is the truth. Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe I wasn't supposed to give so much. Maybe I wasn't supposed to pour myself into people who couldn't—or wouldn’t—pour anything back into me. Maybe the lesson isn't in what I gave but in what I shouldn't have.

But God… it hurts. It hurts so much. I feel it in my chest, like something's clawing at me from the inside. Tearing me apart piece by piece. And I'm tired. I'm so tired. Of hoping. Of waiting. Of trying to convince myself that someday, someone will show up for me the way I showed up for them.

Maybe someday… maybe someday, someone will care. Maybe someday, I will matter to someone. Until then… well, it seems like it is just me, just me holding together with hands already broken, just me trying to fill the silence with words I wish someone would say to me.

But why does it still hurt so much… to be alone?