I think of you and genuinely get angry. Angry at what you do, say, and how you treat me. You’re not around as much as you have been in the past, but when I deal with you, you get under my skin like no other.
I swear, you get up every day with the motive to make my life a living hell. “What can I do to make them miserable today? How can I act to get them revved up and make them look like they’re crazy when they react?” Even if that’s not what you do, it sure feels like it is.
It’s always about your wants, needs, and how your life can be made easier. And if something is suggested to make mine easier, it’s shot down the moment I mention it. If I argue, you make me the bad guy.
I’m the one who’s being unreasonable and unfair because no one takes my feelings into account.
“There was no need for you to go to them instead of me. You stressed them out, and it’s unfair to everyone.”
Yeah, but you’re the one going out of your way to make it unfair to me. Why haven’t you considered that?
You walk around acting like I know nothing. Like what I feel on the matter means nothing to anyone.
Do you realize how frustrating that is? Seriously, do you?
It’s like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall that’s painted to look like a mirror. I see myself in you — at least, I think I do — but you just reflect whatever makes you comfortable. You twist things until the story fits the version you want people to believe.
And me? I’m left standing there, trying to explain that my feelings aren’t some drama I’m inventing. When I say I’m hurt, I mean it. And, when I say I need space, I’m not being petty.
But you don’t hear any of that. You only listen to what you want to hear.
Instead of hearing me out, you deflect, turn the tables, and gaslight me until I start questioning if I’m the one losing it.
But I’m not.
I’m tired of pretending this is normal, of swallowing my feelings so I can keep the peace. Tired of being the one who’s “too sensitive,” “too much,” or “overreacting.”
I want you to understand this: it’s not about control. It’s not about winning an argument. It’s about being seen and respected. Is that so much to ask?
Here’s the truth: no matter how much you try to convince me otherwise, I deserve to have my feelings matter. I deserve to have someone listen without judgment.
And I deserve not to feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you.
However, the reality is that I am.
Every interaction feels like a minefield. You analyze, twist, and weaponize every word I say.
Honestly, I’m exhausted.
I think back to what this all used to be — or maybe what I wished it could be — and it feels like a different lifetime.
Maybe it’s not your fault. I tell myself that, maybe, you’re dealing with your own stuff. But that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on me.
No one said relationships would be easy. But they’re supposed to be a partnership, right?
A give and take. Not one person yelling into the void while the other shuts the door.
I’m ready for something better than this cycle. Ready for honest conversations that don’t leave me doubting my sanity. To feel safe in my own skin when I’m around you.
I’m not sure if you can hear any of this. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in your own story to listen.
But here I am, anyway,
saying what I needed to say — even if it falls on deaf ears.
Now, I refuse to keep quiet just to keep the peace.
I refuse to pretend that my feelings don’t matter.
And I refuse to let this wear me down.
If things don’t change, I’ll have to decide what’s best for me. At the end of the day, I’m the one who has to live with my own heart. And it deserves better than this.
Featured image via Gaspar Zaldo on Pexels
