Always the First to Message—But Not Anymore
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been the one to reach out. The first one to check in, the first one to make sure everyone is okay, the one who sends those messages that say, “Hey, I’m thinking of you” or “How’s everything going?” It’s like I’ve made it my job to make sure that people know they aren’t alone, that someone out there actually cares. But what do I get in return? Absolutely nothing when I need it the most.
It’s hard to explain the feeling of being the one who always initiates. You try so hard to stay connected, to be the person who brings others up, who reminds them that they’re seen and loved. You think you’re creating bonds, building friendships, showing care and concern. But when things aren’t going well in your life, when your world is falling apart, those same people you’ve reached out to time and time again? They disappear.
They skip over the messy stuff—the parts where you’re broken, hurt, and vulnerable. They don’t take the time to ask how you’re really doing. They don’t care about the real stuff because it doesn’t come with a shiny favour or benefit. When you’re not in a position to help or offer something in return, suddenly, you're invisible. The emotional labour I’ve put into these relationships feels one-sided, and it’s exhausting.
I’ve realised that people only message me when they want something—whether it’s advice, a favour, or just someone to talk to when they need to feel better about themselves. When the tables are turned, though, there’s no reciprocation. No genuine concern when I’m struggling. No one checking in because they care about me as a person. Instead, I’m left staring at my phone, wondering why I always end up alone in my thoughts, when I’m the one who always tried to be there.
And don’t even get me started on the people who know I’m struggling. Those who know that my mind isn’t right, that I’m walking through life with an emotional weight that’s crushing me, and yet they continue to turn a blind eye. I’m sure they’ve noticed. How could they not? But there’s no “How are you doing?” No “Is everything okay?” No “Do you need to talk?”
They know I’m broken, and they know there’s nothing they can get from me right now. So they don’t bother. Because if there’s no favour in it for them, why invest any energy in me? Why take the time to support me when I can’t give them anything in return?
I see it now, loud and clear. And I’m done.
I’m done being the person who always initiates. Done being the one who sends those messages, always trying to hold the connection together, while the other person just drifts off, waiting for the next time they need something from me. I’m done offering my time and energy to people who wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared from their lives, because I’m just a convenience to them, not a priority.
Yes, I’m talking to the ones who’ve used me. The ones who’ve only called when they needed something, and only when it suited them. The ones who’ve taken from me and never once thought about giving back. I’m done with you. I’m done giving pieces of myself away to people who couldn’t care less.
And no, it’s not just about the handful of people who genuinely care. I’m not throwing them all into the same category, because I know who you are, and I appreciate you beyond words. But this isn’t about you. This is about the others—the ones who don’t care enough to ask how I’m doing unless it’s to ask for a favour. The ones who’ve known I’ve been hurting and haven’t reached out.
So here’s my message: Fuck you all. I’m done. I’m not the emotional dumping ground anymore. I’m not the person who always has to be strong for everyone else while my own strength is drained. I’ve spent too many years giving and giving and getting nothing in return but the same cold silence when I need someone to lean on.
If you want something from me, you can ask someone else. Because from now on, I’m saving my energy for the people who actually give a damn about me—not just when it’s convenient, but all the time. For the people who see me as more than just someone they can use. For the ones who check in when they know I’m struggling, not just when they want something. For the people who actually know what it means to be there for someone.
I’ve learnt my lesson. It’s time to stop being the first to message, the first to care, and the one who always makes the effort. From now on, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for the people who actually want to show up for me, just like I’ve shown up for them. If you’re not one of those people, then this is goodbye. And I’m not sorry.
