Sometimes, the worst pain doesn’t come from enemies. It comes from people who say they love you but never really see you. They laugh with you, hold your hand when things are light, but the moment you grow quiet… they call you distant. Not once pausing to ask if you’re drowning. You start shrinking yourself. Making your pain quieter, your needs smaller just to be more “bearable.” You stop expecting them to show up. You stop hoping they’ll ask what’s wrong. Because you already know… they won’t. It’s not that they hate you. They just don’t know how to love you fully. They love the parts that are easy. The sunshine in your eyes. The laughter in your voice. Not the nights you cry into pillows, not the moments you break for no reason. And that’s what hurts the most. Being “half-loved” while giving your all. But you learn. To hold your own hand. To whisper “I’m here” to yourself. To stop begging people to care. And maybe, just maybe one day you’ll be loved in full. Not in pieces.