I’m sitting here, overanalysing every message, every pause, every half-hearted response – as if the truth isn’t already written between the lines. “Inside Your Mind” by The 1975 plays in the background, and suddenly, the uncertainty of it all hurts more than I can bear. Because the irony isn’t lost on me – I’d crack your mind open just to see if I’m in there, but I already know I wouldn’t like the answer.
Or maybe I would. Maybe you do really love me like you say you do. But when will you let me in on the love you have for me?
“I’ve been watching you walk, I’ve been learning the way that you talk…”
Do you ever feel like a scientist? Not the “curing diseases” type, but the “conducting a long-term, emotionally unstable research study on whether or not someone cares about you” type? Because same.
Every text, every call, every “hahaha” that has one too many ha’s or maybe one too few – it all means something, right? Or am I just a clown in the grand circus of unreciprocated feelings?
“The back of your head is at the front of my mind…”
You live rent-free in my brain, and not even in a cosy studio apartment kind of way. You have a whole penthouse, rooftop access, and a dedicated staff to serve your whims. You are the main character of my thoughts, while I’m probably just an occasional guest star in yours.
Because here’s the thing – I want to know.
I want to crack your head open (metaphorically, FBI, relax) and see inside your mind. I want to know where I stand. Am I a fleeting thought between work and sleep? Am I a recurring daydream? Or am I just… background noise?
And yet, I won’t ask. Because asking means risking. And risking means getting an answer I might not want.
“Maybe I will wait until you’re fast asleep, dreaming of things I have the right to see…”
Sometimes, I catch myself craving certainty like oxygen. I want to know if you think about me in those quiet moments, when there’s no one to impress, no jokes to make, no people to entertain. Am I in the silence?
Or am I just someone you talk to when your first-choice people are unavailable? Do I exist in your world, or do I just pass through it?
The not knowing is its own kind of torture. Like being in a horror movie where the ghost never actually jumps out but keeps making noises in the walls. You can feel something, but you can’t prove it. You think they care, but you don’t know.
You don’t know. And it’s exhausting.
“The only option left is look and see…”
At some point, the guessing game starts to feel like a slow, painful unraveling. So you consider your options:
1. Be normal and just ask.
- Haha. No.
- The idea of direct communication? Horrifying.
- I would rather eat a bowl of rocks.
2. Drop hints and analyze their responses.
- You send a semi-vulnerable text and watch if they match your energy.
- If they text back quickly = THEY CARE.
- If they take a while but still respond thoughtfully = THEY CARE, BUT THEY’RE PLAYING IT COOL.
- If they hit you with “LMAO” and nothing else = YOU ARE A CLOWN.
3. Do absolutely nothing and suffer in silence.
- A fan favorite.
- The Olympic sport of overthinkers.
- My personal specialty.
So, what’s the best choice? None of them. Because no matter what you do, the truth remains: if someone truly cares about you, you won’t have to wonder.
“I can show you the photographs of you getting on with life…”
Here’s the painful, slightly funny, mostly tragic part – while you’re sitting here, obsessing, analysing, spinning in circles – they’re just living. They wake up, stretch, eat breakfast, go about their day, completely unaware that you spent 45 minutes rereading your last conversation for clues.
You could walk away, and maybe – maybe – they wouldn’t even notice.
And that’s the part that makes you want to throw up and block them at the same time. Because how dare they not be as consumed by you as you are by them? How dare they exist so effortlessly, while you sit here trying to decipher their every move like it’s a Shakespearean tragedy?
But that’s just it, isn’t it? The realisation that you care more. And when that truth sinks in? It stings.
“All those dreams where you’re my wife…”
I want to hate you. I do. I want to roll my eyes and call you mid and tell myself you were never worth the overthinking.
But then I remember the stupid little moments that made me care in the first place. The late-night calls, the jokes that felt like secrets, the texts that came at just the right moment.
I remember the version of you that made me think, Maybe.
And that’s why it’s so hard to let go. Because even if I know better, I still want to believe.
Maybe you do care. Maybe you do think about me. Maybe I do exist inside your mind.
But if I have to wonder? If I have to beg for bread crumbs of attention? If I have to fight to feel important to you?
Then I already have my answer.
“Inside your mind, inside your mind, inside your mind…”
So here it is: the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, painfully obvious truth.
If you have to question whether you’re a priority, you aren’t. If someone truly wants you in their life, you won’t have to decode it. Because when someone cares, you won’t have to wonder.
You’ll just know. And you deserve to know.
(And yet, I still find myself hoping. Because maybe one day, you’ll open the door to your mind and I’ll find myself right there, in the centre of it all. Maybe. Just maybe.)
You Let Me In Just Enough to Keep Me From Leaving
The worst part isn’t the silence. The worst part is that you speak just enough.
You text back just enough to keep me from walking away. You care just enough to make me question if I’m overthinking. You leave the door open just a crack, enough for me to wonder if I should keep waiting, keep hoping, keep believing that maybe, just maybe, this is leading somewhere.
And that’s the real trap, isn’t it? Not the grand rejections, not the outright endings – those are merciful. It’s the half-love, the blurred lines, the almosts that kill you slowly. Because what do you do when someone isn’t actively breaking your heart, but they’re sure as hell not holding it either?
If They Wanted To, They Would – But What If They Just Kind of Want To?
The world loves to tell you “If they wanted to, they would.” And honestly? It’s true. But the more sinister truth is this: Sometimes, they kind of want to – but just not enough.
Not enough to choose you completely. Not enough to meet you where you are. Not enough to make you feel safe in the knowing, rather than dangling in the guessing. And that’s the part that keeps you up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re being played or if they’re just… like this. If they’re emotionally stunted or if they truly, deeply do not care the way you do.
Because maybe they do like you. Maybe they do enjoy talking to you. Maybe they do think about you – sometimes, in passing, like an old song that comes on shuffle and makes them smile before they forget about it.
But do they love you in a way that makes you feel certain? Or are you just the comfortable maybe in their life, while they are the aching, all-consuming definitely in yours?
You Never Chose Me, You Just Never Let Me Go
I think about this often. What if I just… didn’t? What if I stopped initiating, stopped reaching out, stopped being the one who always carries the weight of keeping this going? Would you notice? Would you care? Or would you just… let me go?
And that thought alone is enough to bring me to my knees. Because if I have to test my importance in your life, haven’t I already failed the experiment?
There’s a difference. And once you realise it, it changes everything. People like you? You don’t chase, but you don’t release either. You let me orbit, just close enough to feel like I matter, but never enough to be certain of it.
Because why would you let go of someone who makes you feel adored, wanted, safe? Someone who will always pick up your calls, answer your texts, show up for you when you need them?
You didn’t choose me. You just didn’t stop me from choosing you.
And that’s the heartbreak that doesn’t come all at once. It’s the kind that creeps up on you slowly, over months, over years, until one day you wake up and realise you were never in a relationship – just a situation that required your unconditional devotion and their conditional effort.
You Can Love Someone and Still Know They Are Wrong For You
And oh, I do. I love you in the way you love a song that once meant everything, even though it hurts to listen to now. I love you in the way you love a place from your childhood that no longer exists, but still feels like home in your mind.
But love doesn’t equal belonging. Love doesn’t equal reciprocation. Love doesn’t equal certainty. And I deserve certainty.
The Last Time I Reach Out, I Won’t Tell You It’s the Last Time
One day, I will text you for the last time. I won’t know it’s the last time when I send it, but it will be. It will be the last time I wait for a response that never comes fast enough, the last time I let my mood hinge on whether or not you acknowledge me, the last time I let you take up more space in my heart than you ever earned.
And you won’t notice. Not right away. Because people like you? You don’t notice when someone is slipping away – you only notice when they’re already gone.
And when you do? You’ll scroll through our messages, through the history of someone who would’ve done anything for you, and you’ll realise I’m not there anymore. And I won’t be coming back.
What a Waste of a Good Love
That’s what this is, isn’t it? A waste. A waste of all the softest parts of me, poured into hands that didn’t know how to hold them. A waste of all the moments that could’ve been something more, if only you had met me there.
But I refuse to let my love be a tragedy. Because here’s what I know now:
- My love was never the problem.
- My capacity for feeling wasn’t a weakness.
- Giving a damn isn’t embarrassing.
What’s embarrassing? Being too afraid to return it.
the uncertainty of it hurting forever
That’s the part they don’t tell you about moving on.
It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It’s not fireworks or some cinematic moment where you slam the door and walk away with a triumphant soundtrack playing in the background.
One day, you just wake up… and you don’t check your phone for them. You hear their name, and it doesn’t send a shockwave through your body. You see something that reminds you of them, and instead of feeling like you’re being gutted, you just… keep going.
That’s when you know. That’s when you realise you didn’t lose them – they lost you. Because love that demands pain, patience, and proof was never love worth keeping in the first place. And now? Now, I’m finally free.
(And maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll finally understand what you had. But by then? It’ll be far too late.)
People Like That Always Come Back – But by Then, You Won’t Want Them Anymore
The funny thing about people who leave you guessing is that they never really leave. Not fully. They linger. They cycle back when they sense you’re slipping away, when your attention fades, when they realise the safety net of your love is no longer beneath them.
They send a “how’ve you been?” text after months of nothing. They react to a story you posted like they weren’t the reason you spent weeks crying into your pillow. They resurface just when you start to feel okay again.
And maybe, for a second, your heart stutters. Maybe, for a moment, you consider responding, reopening the door, believing once again that this time could be different.
But then you remember. You remember how many times you excused their inconsistency. You remember the nights you lay awake, dissecting their mixed signals. You remember how small, how uncertain, how exhausted you felt chasing after someone who never let themselves be fully caught.
And you realise – they don’t miss you. They miss your presence in their orbit.
They miss being adored. They miss being the centre of your gravity. They miss the security of knowing someone out there loved them unconditionally, despite the fact that they gave you so little to hold onto.
But the thing about almost-love is that once you truly walk away from it – there’s no coming back. Because once you’ve known peace, you’ll never crave chaos again.
One Day, You’ll Thank Yourself for Letting Go
Right now, it might still sting. The urge to reach out, to fix, to hold on might still be lingering in your chest like a slow-burning ache.
But one day, you’ll look back and thank yourself for walking away. You’ll thank yourself for not waiting around for someone who couldn’t meet you halfway. You’ll thank yourself for refusing to shrink your love into something easier to digest for someone who was never ready for its fullness. You’ll thank yourself for learning, for growing, for choosing to believe that real love doesn’t leave you feeling like a question mark.
Because the love you’re meant for? It won’t make you doubt yourself. It won’t make you beg. It won’t be a puzzle you have to piece together with scraps of attention and false hope. It will be clear. Loud. Unwavering. And when it arrives, you’ll be glad you never settled for anything less.
(And maybe – just maybe – you’ll even thank the person who never fully chose you. Because in their absence, you finally learned how to choose yourself.)
You Are Not Hard to Love
Let’s get one thing straight – you were never too much. Your love was never the problem.
The right person wouldn’t have flinched at your depth. They wouldn’t have needed time, space, or ‘the right moment’ to figure out how they felt about you. They wouldn’t have kept you waiting in limbo, hoping that maybe, one day, they’d wake up and love you back the way you deserved.
Because love – the real kind – isn’t something that needs convincing. It’s not something that should make you feel like you need to tone yourself down, be less intense, want less, need less. And yet, that’s what you were made to feel, wasn’t it? Like you were too available. Too emotional. Too much.
But here’s the truth: You were not hard to love. They were just bad at it.
You Never Had to Prove Your Worth – They Just Never Deserved It
All that effort you poured into showing them why they should choose you? That was never your job.
Love isn’t an interview where you have to prove why you’re qualified. It’s not a test where, if you just get all the answers right, they’ll finally see your value. It’s not a strategy game where the right combination of words, actions, and timing will unlock their commitment.
Someone who truly sees you – someone who truly loves you – will not need convincing. And when you finally realise that? That’s when everything changes.
That’s when you stop mourning what could have been. That’s when you stop wondering what more you could have done. That’s when you finally stop looking back and start moving forward.
When You Finally Let Go, the Universe Fills the Space
Here’s the thing about leaving someone behind: it creates room.
Room for better things. Room for people who see your worth without hesitation. Room for the kind of love that doesn’t leave you questioning, waiting, or wondering.
The universe does this funny thing – it never lets you walk away from something without eventually showing you why you had to.
One day, you’ll meet someone who makes you laugh so easily that you’ll wonder why you ever tried so hard to pull affection out of someone else. One day, you’ll receive a love so effortless that you’ll be embarrassed you ever had to beg for it. One day, someone will look at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them – and they won’t be afraid to say it. And on that day, you’ll feel it in your bones: This is what I was waiting for.
What If It Was Never About Them? What If It Was About You?
Maybe the lesson wasn’t about losing them. Maybe the lesson was about finding yourself. Maybe you had to learn how to stop over-explaining, over-giving, over-extending. Maybe you had to see firsthand what it felt like to be loved halfway, so you’d never settle for it again.
Maybe this was the universe’s way of shaking you awake, of teaching you your own worth in a way you’d never forget.
Because now? Now, you know better. Now, you know what love shouldn’t feel like. Now, you know that anyone who makes you question whether you’re wanted isn’t someone you ever want again.
And maybe, just maybe, this whole thing was never about them. Maybe it was about you – finally realising you deserve so much more.
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