I Made Peace With Being Forgotten

I spent years believing I was unlovable.

Not because anyone told me outright, but because life showed me in small, cruel ways — the way people left without warning, the way silence always followed honesty, the way I kept giving pieces of myself and watching them be forgotten.

I thought I was somebody nobody could love.

So I learned to disappear before anyone could confirm it.

I became the friend who laughed too loud, the lover who didn’t ask for much, the person who said “I’m fine” even when I was anything but. I built walls and called them boundaries. I called loneliness “strength.”

The truth is, I didn’t want to be loved — not really. I wanted to be seen and still chosen. I wanted someone to stay after finding out who I really was beneath the pretending. But when you spend enough time convincing yourself you’re unworthy, love starts to feel like a threat.

I thought I was somebody nobody could love.

But maybe it wasn’t love that was missing — maybe it was me.

Maybe I left myself long before anyone else did.

And now, slowly, painfully, I’m learning to return.