Thursday, 22 May 2025

๐—œ๐˜'๐˜€ ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ฑ ๐˜๐—ผ ๐—บ๐—ถ๐˜€๐˜€ ๐˜€๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ฒ ๐˜„๐—ต๐—ผ'๐˜€ ๐˜€๐˜‚๐—ฝ๐—ฝ๐—ผ๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ฑ ๐˜๐—ผ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐˜€๐—ถ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ ๐˜†๐—ผ๐˜‚.

 It’s a strange kind of loneliness—being next to someone who feels miles away. I live with a partner who doesn’t see me anymore. He never asks how I’m doing, never plans a date or a moment just for us. He can sit down and eat a full meal without even thinking to ask if I’m hungry, even when I’m right beside him.


There are no small gestures, no shared laughter, no sense of being cared for. I’ve become invisible in the space we once filled with love. I miss the version of him who used to notice me, and I miss the version of *us* that felt like a team.


Being physically together means nothing when someone’s heart is somewhere else—or worse, nowhere at all. Sometimes, the quiet is so loud it echoes.


It’s hard to explain what it feels like when your husband is physically present but emotionally or mentally absent—or maybe he’s gone altogether. The weight of doing life, parenting, and holding the household together without his support can be exhausting.


You didn’t sign up to do this alone, yet here you are—wiping tears, making ends meet, showing up day after day for everyone else while silently wondering who shows up for you.


๐—œ๐˜'๐˜€ ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ฑ ๐˜๐—ผ ๐—บ๐—ถ๐˜€๐˜€ ๐˜€๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ฒ ๐˜„๐—ต๐—ผ'๐˜€ ๐˜€๐˜‚๐—ฝ๐—ฝ๐—ผ๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ฑ ๐˜๐—ผ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐˜€๐—ถ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ ๐˜†๐—ผ๐˜‚. 


No comments:

Post a Comment