I guess what I meant to say is that it isn’t nice. It isn't nice to deliberately avoid making someone feel special....
INTROSPECTION
I guess what I meant to say is that it isn’t nice. It isn't nice to deliberately avoid making someone feel special. To always keep yourself at the center of the universe. To be so consumed by your own needs that you disregard anyone else’s feelings. What’s worse are the people who support such behavior. Those who negate your feelings and pain, who keep telling you to ignore instead of pulling you closer and assuring you they understand. They don’t acknowledge the hurt, the disappointment, the ache. Instead, the ones who are supposed to be the closest chase you so far away that your voice becomes a faint scrape—just like your expectations.
When you sit randomly with tears in your eyes and wonder how much you've already given away: your youth, your dreams, opinions, body image, home, family, friends.
When you’ve spent your entire life adjusting yourself to suit their preferences, yet you still fall short. You’re not accepted. You’re not worthy. And they won’t go the extra mile for you.
And then comes the most disputed concept of expectations—something they insist applies only when it comes to meeting their needs and celebrating their occasions.
Yet, it becomes utterly meaningless when it’s about reciprocating or transgressing the circle of their universe. They manipulate you into believing you’re wrong. Wrong how? For expecting!
For expecting to be treated the way you treat them. For believing they would go above and beyond for you, finally giving you the respect you deserve. But the harsh reality is that they’ve confined you to a box of things they take for granted. Your feelings don’t matter to them. They think you will devour the leftover crumbs of self-respect and worth—and somehow, be satisfied with it.
And maybe life can feel fulfilling that way—a myriad of lies so heavy they outweigh reality. Sooner or later, all feelings become just understatements, and every word has two meanings.
When love becomes lost between the lines and boundaries blur, it feels inevitable that one day everything will burn down, and there would be nothing to save. Because when you care for something, it lasts.
As long as there are eyes to see, dreams stay alive. A painting holds its colors for its beholder. A universe manifests miracles every day for those with the intuition to see and the intellect to understand.
But what happens to a writer whose words are never read? When poetry goes unseen and every page eventually turns blank? The typewriter gathers dust in a corner of a loud room, filled only with quiet meanings. The subtle art of living has become increasingly difficult — and uncharming.
And yet, the heart beats — thud, thud, thud — reminding you it’s not normal to only consume without imparting, to hoard a dozen copies of the same things and still claim to be your true self. While the world around you immerses in the superficiality and glimmer of owning things, just know that to sit with your void and face your reality may be difficult, but you're winning the battle already.
You don’t need accolades to withstand life. You’re already learning to embrace yourself, flaws and all. You’re worthy—despite it all. You’re not empty inside.
