Now That I Said Something
He left comments on my photos today. After I told him how it hurt—how invisible I felt watching him give public attention to other women, women who look nothing like me, while staying completely silent on mine.
Now suddenly, I have hearts. Compliments. Engagement. The kind of visibility I hadn’t dared to expect but couldn’t stop aching for. And I hate how much it doesn’t help.
It feels like a response, not a reflection of actual want. Like a gesture meant to smooth things over instead of something that grew from any real hunger. I didn’t want to be a box he checks after the fact. I didn’t want performance—I wanted presence.
I know he probably meant well. But now every like feels calculated. Every comment lands as damage control. Instead of feeling claimed, I feel handled.
It’s not that I didn’t want the attention—I just didn’t want it like this. Not because I asked. Not because it got awkward. Not because he felt bad.
I wanted to feel chosen. Now I just feel like something he fixed.
