A letter I’ll never send

A Letter I’ll Never Send

I don’t know how to say this out loud— not without my voice shaking. But I think I’ve been alone for a very long time, even with people around me. Even when I’m smiling. Even when they laugh and say they love having me near.

It’s strange, how I can be surrounded and still feel like I’m the only one in the room drowning.

He’s there, but not in the way I need. He touches me like I’m something fragile— or worse, something he wishes he didn’t have to carry. And maybe he loves me, but not like I love him. Not like he needs me. I am the burden he hauls, not the love he feels.

I stay, not because he asks, not because it’s safe, but because I don’t know who I am without his weight.

And when he looks past me, like I’m air he’s forced to breathe— God, it hurts. But I still stay. Because even pain from him feels more like home than silence from anyone else.

Everyone sees me— but no one knows me. They hear my laugh, but not the cry I bite back when the room goes quiet. I’m the friend, the comfort, the constant— never the one held.

And I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

I just want someone to pull me aside, look me in the eyes, and know—

that I’m not okay. That I haven’t been for a while. That I’m trying so hard to be enough, for him, for them, for anyone— when I can’t even find enough for myself.

So here I am, writing this to no one, because no one ever really asks how heavy it is to stay when you feel like a ghost in your own life.

But if anyone does read this someday, I hope they finally see me.

Not the version I pretend to be— but the one who's breaking so quietly it almost sounds like strength.