Still searching

There’s something about this friendship thing I’m still trying to understand. They say it’s having a shoulder to lean on — but what if that shoulder slips? What if the only one holding me up… was never them, but me? They say friendship means standing by someone in the storm — but what if they’re only standing, not staying? There, but not truly with me. Not out of love, but out of habit. How different things would be if we could see hearts instead of faces. Real instead of rehearsed. Maybe it’s the way I’m wired. I get attached quickly — I love loudly — and in the end, I’m left in silence. I feel seen, but not understood. Heard, but not listened to. Loved… but only on the surface. What I crave is depth. What I often get is performance. I wish someone would look at me and actually see me — not the version they’ve imagined, not the label they’ve assumed. Just… me. The quiet check-ins mean more than a lot — but who checks on the ones always checking in? Who comforts the strong friend? Who holds the one always holding others?