I am failing miserably.

I cannot help but ignore what I am feeling. I cannot look beyond my own ache to see what the other person is going through, to be supportive, present, understanding.
All I can think about is how they are making me feel in this moment—unheard, unseen, unloved.

I’ve been told I am not being supportive. And I ask—how can I be?
How can I give when my own cup is empty?

I have been pouring and pouring and pouring. For days. For months. For years, maybe.
And now, I have nothing left.
I want to receive.
Is that too much to ask?

Can the other person not give me their time, their attention—just when I need it the most?
It’s always me who doesn’t understand, me who is too sensitive, me who fights, me who wants too much.
But really, what do I even ask for?

A little time. A little affection. A little presence. A little care.

I don’t feel valued.
I feel like I’m only liked when I’m giving—when I’m not asking for anything in return.
And maybe, I do sound a little melodramatic. Maybe I’ve become that version of myself over time.
But I wasn’t always like this.

This is not sudden.
This is a build-up—layer upon layer of unmet needs, of swallowing emotions, of silencing my voice.
And now, I feel like I’m crumbling under the weight of it all.

Do all relationships end up like this?

Because right now, I feel so unloved.
And this… this feels like the end.
I’m gasping. Drowning.
This is the end.

And still, the question whispers—Am I at fault?
I try to think. I try to introspect.
And honestly? I don’t know.

I don’t feel like I’m the problem.
I try, I reflect, I show up. But somehow, I end up feeling alone anyway.

Or maybe I am the problem.
Maybe I’m too full of myself to see my flaws.
Or maybe we’re just two incompatible people trying too hard to make it work.

But then again—this is my second relationship.
And the pattern… it feels eerily familiar.
So is it something about me?

Do I drive people away?
Am I too much?

What do I do with this intensity?
This passion that doesn’t know how to sit quietly?

Once I like someone—I can’t stay calm, casual, detached.
I don’t know how to be “chill.”
I love too deeply. I feel too loudly.

Should I learn stoicism? Should I learn detachment?

Maybe.
Maybe not.
But what I know is—I no longer want to crave love from someone who cannot offer it.
I no longer want to ache for scraps of attention.
I no longer want to bend into shapes to be understood.

I just want to get over this.
This phase. This hunger. This part of me that still waits.

I don’t want to want someone anymore.

I just want peace.
Even if it means being alone.
Even if it means walking away from the idea of love—until it stops feeling like longing.

Let it end.And maybe, in that ending—I’ll find me again.