sai

Like they only talk to you when they’re sad, broken, or confused—but once they’re okay, you’re forgotten?

That’s how I’ve been feeling. Again.

From elementary school to high school and even now, I’ve found myself in the same kind of friendships—if you can even call them that. People come to me when they need comfort, advice, or someone to just listen. And I give them that. I give them everything I can, thinking maybe it’s because they trust me. Maybe I have a gift for making people feel better.

But after a while, I realized it wasn’t really about trust. It was about convenience. I was there when no one else was. I understood when others didn’t. I gave them a space to breathe when they felt like they were suffocating—but once they caught their breath, they left me gasping.

And it hurts. It really hurts.


I find myself asking:
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Why do they leave after I’ve given so much?”
“I tried to be there… why wasn't that enough?”

I’ve built walls because of this. Emotional barriers. Telling myself I won’t let anyone get too close, because I don’t want to feel used or thrown away again. But no matter how solid I think those walls are, I always end up letting people in. And every time, they find a way to break me.

It’s frustrating. I give so much of my time and energy to people. I stay up late to listen. I drop what I’m doing to make sure they’re okay. But when they’re fine, when they’ve picked themselves back up—it’s like I never existed. No “thank you.” No check-ins. Just silence.

I’m tired of it. I want it to stop.


I deserve more than being someone’s temporary emotional support system.
I deserve friendships that go both ways.
I deserve to feel seen, not just needed.