Discover Top Posts Tagged with #feeling used

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I offered so much of myself,

To those who didn't deserve it,

Having them take advantage of this quiet heart,

That once feared saying my thoughts out loud,

Reaching my breaking point,

Sparing no room for such intolerance,

Screaming out to the sky for anyone who can hear me...

©️fallencalliope

i wonder if i’m able to be loved or only lusted over. i give so much love out to everyone i meet, they only see my body and what they can do to it. i just wanna find one person who can hold me and not see my body as an object and as a person living and needing to be loved

#vent #vent post #venting #sad post #rambling #emptiness #feeling used #sexualized #when will i be loved #lust

There are parts of me I don’t hand out anymore. Not because I’ve turned cold, and not because I’ve forgotten how to love, but because life has taught me — again and again — that some people only come close to see what they can take. I talk a lot. That’s the easy part. Words spill out of me like water, filling the silence, covering the cracks, keeping the world from noticing how much I’m holding back. People hear the noise, but they never hear the truth. They don’t hear the things I swallow, the things I bury, the things I’ve carried for twenty-plus years because loyalty is the one thing I’ve never known how to fake. I’ve kept secrets that weren’t mine. I’ve protected people who never protected me. I’ve held stories that could’ve burned bridges, but I kept them locked inside because I wanted to be someone others could trust. And what did I get for it? Judgment. Dismissal. Silence. People treating me like I’m invisible until they need something from me again. I don’t want to be the victim in my own story. I don’t want pity. I don’t want to be seen as fragile or broken. I just want to stop feeling like my worth is something people use until they’re done with it. I get angry sometimes — how could I not? If anyone else lived a day in my shoes, they’d understand the fire that rises in me. The exhaustion. The frustration. The ache of being the one who holds everyone else’s world together while mine keeps slipping through my fingers. But even in my anger, I’m still the one who forgives. Still the one who tries. Still the one who shows up for people who don’t show up for me. And that’s the part that cuts the deepest — not the lies, not the betrayals, not the silence — but the way I keep offering my heart to hands that don’t know how to hold it. I don’t want to feel worthless. I don’t want to feel like a placeholder in other people’s lives. I don’t want to feel like my loyalty is a resource people drain and walk away from when the well runs dry. I want to feel seen. I want to feel valued. I want to feel like the love I give isn’t something people take advantage of but something they honor. I want to stop feeling like I’m the last one on everyone’s list when I’ve spent my whole life putting them first. And maybe — just maybe — I’m finally learning that the loyalty I’ve given away so freely is something I need to start giving to myself. Because I’m tired of being the strong one who never gets held. I’m tired of being the loyal one who never gets loyalty back. I’m tired of being the open heart in a world full of closed hands. I don’t want to feel used anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m begging for the bare minimum. I don’t want to feel like my worth is something I have to prove. I want peace. I want honesty. I want reciprocity. I want a life where my softness isn’t a weakness but a gift. And maybe the first step is finally admitting that I deserve more than the scraps I’ve been given.