Member-only story
You always tell me to open up, to share what’s on my mind, as if you’re ready and waiting to hear everything.
But every time I find the courage to speak, to say what’s really going on, I look over, and you’re scrolling through your phone or glancing over to your work, your mind miles away from where we are.
Do you know what it feels like to be halfway through sharing my heart, only to realise you’re not even with me in that moment?
When I’m laying bare the things that make me who I am, the thoughts that matter to me, and I notice your attention slipping, it’s like a silent betrayal.
It’s the sinking realisation that the person who says they care can’t even look up long enough to see me, to hear me.
I’m left wondering if my words, my feelings, mean as much to you as I’d hoped.
Sometimes I convince myself it’s nothing, that maybe you’re just distracted for a moment.
But those moments are starting to pile up.
My words start to feel like empty echoes, bouncing off someone who’s only half-listening.
Each time I try to speak up, I pull back a little more, question a little harder if it’s even worth sharing.
