#dear me

Yet here I am.

Not because I have stories to tell or because I wanted a new hobby, but because my thoughts have become too loud, my heart too heavy, and I no longer know where to put everything I’m feeling.

Today feels heavy.

Not because of one life-changing event, but because of all the little hurts that have quietly accumulated over time. The kind of hurts you brush aside, convince yourself aren’t worth mentioning, and carry alone until one day they become impossible to ignore.

I think what hurts the most is feeling like the person I love the most doesn’t always consider me when making important decisions.

Sometimes I only find out after everything has already been decided.

Sometimes I learn about things when there’s nothing left to discuss, no room left for my thoughts, no opportunity to share how I feel.

And every time it happens, I’m left asking myself the same question:

Why didn’t you think to ask me first?

Not because I need control.

Not because I need permission.

But because I thought I mattered enough to be considered.

Lately, I’ve been carrying a question that sits quietly in the back of my mind:

Who am I to you, really?

Because when I love someone, I naturally think about them.

I think about how my decisions affect them.

I think about their feelings.

I think about what they might need, what they might think, what they deserve to know.

Not because I’m obligated to.

Because I care.

Because that’s what love looks like to me.

And maybe that’s why this hurts more than I know how to explain.

I’m tired.

Tired of finding things out later.

Tired of hearing things after they’ve already happened.

Tired of feeling like I’m piecing together truths instead of being trusted with them from the beginning.

I wish you understood that this isn’t about the decisions themselves.

It’s about the feeling they leave behind.

The feeling of being overlooked.

The feeling of being left out.

The feeling of wondering whether my place in your life is as important as your place in mine.

I love you.

And that’s exactly why this hurts.

Because the people we love the most are often the only ones capable of hurting us this deeply without ever intending to.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing tonight.

Because I don’t know how to let this sadness go.

I don’t know how to stop replaying the questions in my head.

I don’t know how to stop wondering why the person I would always consider doesn’t always seem to consider me.

So for now, I’ll leave these thoughts here.

On a Tumblr account I never thought I’d create.

In a journal I never thought I’d need.

Hoping these words can carry some of the weight my heart has been holding for far too long.

🖤 May 30, 2026 — 11:00 PM

“Some sadness doesn’t ask to be understood. It just asks for a place to exist.”