Earning love can feel like dying—
scavenging for scraps in the dark,
a raccoon rifling through what’s left behind.
A bandit, just for wanting
what should be freely given.
Starving for touch.
Begging for attention.
Hungry to matter—
to be chosen.
But you can’t be too loud.
Too obvious.
Too much.
You can’t say what you need,
or you become
needy,
clingy,
broken.
Or maybe you can.
Who knows.
It seems so easy for everyone else.
They gather in bars,
in rooms that shake with laughter,
in apps that promise connection.
They walk in
and are met—
voices, hands, eyes—
being human together.
So you make yourself visible.
Leave the door open.
Step into the light.
You smile until it feels real
and try—
try
try.
But what happens when no one comes?
When no one stays?
When every face moves past you
like you’re already gone?
What happens when you forget
the weight of a hug,
the sound of your voice
answered by another,
the shape of laughter
shared instead of swallowed?
When your hands forget
what it is to hold,
your lips what it is to give,
your life what it is
to be witnessed?
What happens
when you do everything right—
and still
end up alone