Soledad

I’m an open book in a world people aren’t willing to read, I say I have few friends but no one listens to me.

“See you later” you said just to never speak to me again, happened twice or thrice before, so I knew you would be the same.

Same as people I write about to forget, just to recall my lack of self love, what a regret.

I love people for the both of us, I disarm the puzzle of my heart for them, tore it apart so they are given what they deserve.

It is not that I’m not capable of loving myself, empathy is what runs through my veins; I tend to sacrifice myself for others, claiming it to be acts of service, to destroy what lies within me for a chance of redemption.

Maybe I’m a stranger to myself too, looking at my reflection, wondering who I’ve become. I crave love like it’s air, but I forget to breathe my own, searching for a part of me in others, only to lose it once again.

Have you ever felt that, too?

Like giving everything just to feel seen?

I wonder how many of us walk this earth, quietly breaking apart to keep others whole.

You don’t say anything to avoid conflict, but live in conflict for saying nothing.

But what if I started speaking, dared to let my voice echo in empty rooms?

Would I shatter this fragile peace or finally find a way to breathe?

Would the world learn to accept me, or would I finally learn to accept myself?

To the ones who bite their tongues, hide their tears behind polite smiles.

I see you, let’s not confuse silence for strength, nor call neglect a form of love.