Maybe my worst fear is true

Maybe my worst fear is an accurate representation of the truth.

I guess I do suck. And that’s why people eventually walk away when they get too close to me. Lately, even the smallest moments trigger that quiet panic, the feeling that I’m not enough.

I don’t let myself get attached often, because I know how it usually ends. But you know what makes me a real loser? I keep believing that if I’m open enough, honest enough, real enough, they’ll understand. They’ll see what’s beneath the surface and maybe treat me with the love and respect I deserve.

But people don’t work that way. Some days, it feels like I don’t leave a lasting mark on anyone.

Still, somewhere deep down, I know who I am. I know what kind of person I’ve always been. Have I changed much? Probably not. I’m still made of every moment and every person that left a scar. I wear a mask when I have to, just to get through. But there are days I simply can’t.

I overthink like it’s a matter of survival. Trying to fix what’s broken before it breaks me. Trying to be free from all the worries and the moments when I catch myself analyzing every silence, every shift in tone, every delayed reply. Because it eats me alive when I sense someone pulling away, or not valuing me like they used to.

There’s something about feeling undervalued or ignored that shakes me to my core. Like a nuclear explosion inside. I can feel my beliefs and every emotion that held me together getting vaporized with that cold, electrifying shiver running down my spine.

And then comes the fallout, when all I can do is stay motionless in my own head. After that comes the flood, sweeping everything away. All the purest emotions I had kept afloat, even after all the storms, drown beneath the cold gaze of the people I cared about.

I don’t know how to stop feeling this way. It’s exhausting knowing I’m the only one shattered by the loss of a connection. I’m tired of always being the one who cares more, and gets hurt even more.

Why do I stay stuck in that loop, even when it wasn’t my fault? Somewhere along the way, I became someone even I wouldn’t choose. Maybe even someone I’d look down on.

And the scariest part? No one knows what goes on inside this head. No one sees the real me.

They couldn’t leave if they did.