Maybe my worst fear is true

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

I guess something in me pushes people away. Maybe that is why they eventually leave when they get too close. 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 feel pathetic? I keep believing that if I’m open enough, honest enough, real enough, someone will understand. That they will see what is beneath the surface and treat it with the care I have always wanted.

But maybe people are not meant to look that closely. Some days, it feels like I do not leave a lasting mark on anyone.

Still, somewhere deep down, I know who I am. I know what kind of person I have always tried to be. Have I changed much? Probably not. I am 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. I try to fix what is broken before it breaks more of me. I try to be free from all the worries and the moments when I catch myself analyzing every silence, every shift in tone, every delayed reply. It eats me alive when I start sensing distance or uncertainty, even if nothing is being said.

There is something about feeling unseen 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 in the silence that followed.

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

Why do I stay stuck in that loop, even when I know I tried my best? Somewhere along the way, I became someone even I wouldn’t choose. Maybe even someone I would not want to stay with.

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

Or maybe they do. And that is what makes them leave.