By Ishita Varshney
Am I seeking attention?
Is it really such a big deal?
Will I be a burden?
Just let it go. They’ll understand.
I have always been the one to avoid the storm-
Suppress your feelings, smile, and move on.
It’s easy when you’ve practiced it for years.
At least, that’s what I believed.
Until today.
Today, when I let my thoughts slip free,
Let them break through the chains.
We never really argued, did we?
Luck is cruel in that way.
I remember you saying that I could always share,
That you’d always understand,
That you’d always be there,
That I could always trust you.
Trust?
A fragile sentiment made of glass-
But ours was made of steel.
That’s what I thought, until it was put to test.
I was kind with my words, respectful even.
But each word, it seems, carried its own voice.
And to you, they sounded cruel.
Poisonous. Sharp. Intentional.
Each word was plucked, as if it were hiding some deep agenda.
It was twisted and then shattered,
Forcibly made to mean the worst,
Until I regretted sharing at all.
Shared what, exactly?
Simple truths that I thought you had the right to know?
It wasn’t a lot, was it?
The matter slipped out of hand like smoke.
I still believe it wasn’t that big.
But, if the world ran on my beliefs,
Then you’d know I never meant to hurt you.
After trying to make you understand my perspective,
You refused to give me yours.
All I got was a brittle line:
“Let’s leave it now.”
Honestly, I would have welcomed that peace.
I thought we were both ready to stop the spiral.
But it felt like you were throwing crumbs-
Doing me a favor you didn’t want to give.
You’re not the type to walk away unresolved.
At least, not with others.
So why was I different?
And when I asked-gently, desperately-
To understand what went wrong,
You replied again:
“Let’s leave it now.”
There were many places
Where disappointment bloomed.
And Disappointment-
That was never something I associated with you.
I was hoping for the understanding you always offered,
Longing for the reassurance that I mattered.
Instead, I was left carrying guilt
For even opening up.
The guilt was never mine to bear-
It should’ve knocked on your door too.
Still, I sink beneath the weight all alone,
Because maybe it was my fault for wanting to be heard.
The second-guessing?
It is creeping quietly,
Telling me maybe silence is safer-
Especially with you.
I think I am allowed to wish you tried harder.
I think I am allowed to want more.
Because I’ve always been there for you,
And I expected the same in return.
Expectation?
They say that’s what hurts the most.
But mine were simple, normal,
And you could have easily met them…if you wanted to.
It makes me wonder if I have the wrong image.
Even now, I desperately hope you’ll fix it.
But I don’t think I’ll get anything,
Other than another hollow response.
Maybe this sounds too dramatic,
Overly loud for what it is,
After all, friends have fallouts.
But I don’t know how else to feel.
I don’t know how else to release this without breaking something-
Or you.
So I keep it in.
And let the page hold the conversation
We’ll never have.
You won’t hear my complaints again.
Because every time I’ll think of opening up,
My mind will take a trip down the memory lane,
And my lips will seal themselves shut.
I’ve successfully crawled back in my shell,
A place I once escaped but now know too well.
You taught me lessons I never wished to learn-
That not all promises are ones people return.