November 29, 2025

(Another fragment written in the same dark season.)

How You Make Me Feel

Being vulnerable is easy for me, I can easily describe all the multitudes of sadness that I feel and name why.

I’ve been triggered by babies and children lately, I see their tiny teacup faces and I think about yours and how they’ll never be mine or how I might never have any.

I envision your happy Sundays where you take your stroller on a quiet walk by the pier with him. It breaks my heart again and again.

I think about your parents and his family, the time you’ve spent together. Your stable base that I will never be a part of.

I think about how I would always be a speck in your universe, meaningless and fleeting.

I think about how I always fall into strange and deep attachments to people who have zero capacity to love me back and it splinters my heart many times over.

Most days I feel unseen, unheard and alone and I don’t mind it. Not everyone has the capacity to understand me. But some days, it weighs on me like a boulder. What if I will never be understood; feel like I am enough, what if I will always be just short of enough, never chosen?

Low moments like now, I wish you never pretended to give me what you cannot. Dangle a promise and take it away but then I remember even I don’t choose me all the time.

I feel a strange mixture of hopefulness for the future, despair for the past, and a general sense of confusion. What am I supposed to do with all these feelings?

So I cry, I write, I listen to bird chirps till I fall asleep, dream about scenes that will never happen.

Sometimes, I wish I had never met you.

Sometimes, I wish I had never met me.