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.
