What hurts 
is that you knew you broke me.

You knew you tore me apart,
and yet you continued on with your day—

like nothing happened.
You knew I’d go to bed crying 
every single night
 because I couldn’t bear the thought
 of life without you in it.

But you didn’t seem to care.
You knew I was attached—

so why did you let go?

You knew my heart was delicate,
and I opened it to you completely.

But all you did was neglect it.

Break it.
You only ever cared about your feelings.

But what about mine?

Am I that invisible to you?
Days turned into weeks,

weeks into months,

months into years—

and you haven’t said a single word.
Do you really hate me that much?

That’s what I’ve asked myself

over and over again.
But maybe you never hated me.

Maybe I just didn’t matter.

You told me what we had was never going to last,
that we needed to let each other go.

Confused, lost, and heartbroken, I thought—

what could I have done to make you want to leave?

Was it me?
Was I the problem?

Was it that I cared too much—

too much to the point where you felt suffocated?

Or did you simply fall out of love with me?

I never understood.
As years went by,

you would come and then go,

ask how I was doing,
then disappear like nothing ever existed between us.

You made it seem like what we had meant nothing to you.

Is it possible you got over me that fast—

when I truly believed we were in love?
I never thought I could love someone so deeply until I met you.

I never thought I could care for anyone more than I did for you.

So how is it so easy for you to live without my presence?

Am I that easy to forget?

Is my love that easy to ignore?
Was I just a chapter,
while you were my whole book?

Was I holding on to something
you let go of long ago?
I kept every word, every touch, every moment—

you let them fade like passing days.
And even now,
when I smile in public and say I’m fine,

I wonder if you ever miss me
the way I still ache for you

in the quiet.

All this time… turns out you felt the same.
I thought I was the only one hurting without your presence—
turns out you were too.
I thought I was the only one who cared, even after you left—
turns out you did too.
I thought I was the only one who wasn’t over you—
turns out you weren’t either.
I thought I was the only one who got jealous
when you mentioned other girls—
turns out you were too.
I thought I was the only one holding on to what we had—
but maybe you never really let go either.
I thought I was the only one rewriting our story in my head—
but maybe you were just as afraid
to say it out loud.
And maybe,
just maybe,
we both lost something
we still wanted to keep.

I think I’ve always found it easier to pretend you never existed,
Like a side character in a story I barely remember,
Convincing myself that if you were never real,
Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

I understand—
you left when I was a child.
I understand—
you and my mother were never meant to last.
But who gave you the right to decide
That leaving meant forgetting?

Maybe I was never important enough,
Just another name lost in the shadow of your other daughters.
But tell me, was it my fault?
Was I the reason you walked away?

I hate that I don’t know you at all,
Not your birthday, not your voice, not even your favorite color.
A father—
someone meant to stand behind his daughter,
A backbone, a shelter
But I had none of that.
I lacked that.

And now, all I have is the echo of your absence,
An empty space where love should have been,
A stranger I was supposed to call father.

My whole life, I’ve seen best friends
who would take a bullet for each other,
best friends who are inseparable,
best friends who drift through different circles of friends
but always find their way back to each other.

Best friends who speak in glances,
who know each other’s hearts like their own,
who, in a room full of people,
would choose each other every time.

But me?

I am the one who’s never anyone’s first choice,
The one never chosen in a room full of faces,
The one always left waiting,
Always left behind.

I am the afterthought, the spare friend,
the easily replaceable one,
the one whose presence is felt
only when everyone else is gone.

I was always an option, never a choice.

Never the first thought,
Never the last thought,
Never the thought at all.

Lately, life feels like a roundabout.
I’m standing at the center,
Surrounded by exits—
None of them seem right.

Every path I take
Leads to dead ends,
Littered with obstacles
I can’t climb or move around.

Negativity fills the air,
Heavy and unrelenting.
Getting out of my comfort zone?
It doesn’t feel like an option.

Because what’s the point,
When every road just circles back
To where I began?

Maybe the problem is—
I have no destination.
No place I want to be,
No purpose to drive me forward.

Without a purpose,
There’s no motivation.
And choosing a path?
It feels like too much.

During the day,
The sunlight—
My friends
My family
Guides me, gives me strength.

But at night,
The darkness returns.
I’m lost again,
With no light to lead the way.

So here I remain,
Stuck at the center of the roundabout,
Going nowhere.

You wouldn’t ever know what it’s like,
Sitting in silence,
While they talk about fathers—
The ones who stay,
The ones who love without question.

They speak of sacrifices,
Of arms that shield and words that soothe,
Of being treated like princesses,
Given the world without needing to ask.

But me?
I can only imagine.
I’ve learned to fill the silence with smiles,
To nod along, as if I know the feeling.
But deep down,
I carry the weight of your absence.

How do you grieve for something
You’ve never truly had?
How do you explain the hollow space
Where love should have been?

You wouldn’t ever know what it’s like—
To grow up wishing for a hero,
And realizing,
You had to become your own.