Ink & Silence: For Your Eyes Only
"The ache that never left"
When you realize no one cares about you is when you just... stop.
That moment—you feel it in your chest before your mind even catches up.
It’s not loud. It doesn’t scream.
It simply flickers, like a candle in the wind, then dims quietly.
No one loves you, no one cares, no one wants you, no one wants you around.
It’s not true, I know. At least not always.
But there are days when the silence is so thick
you start to believe it anyway.
And I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me.
I’m telling you because I want to be honest with what I’ve carried.
When no one just loves you is tragic.
Not because you can’t survive it.
But because we’re all just walking through the world,
hoping someone will say, “I see you. I want you here.”
To know that not a single person would ever notice your absence
or can accept you aren't coming back... that’s when you know it’s over.
I’ve walked through days where I imagined vanishing—
and wondered if anyone’s world would feel it.
Maybe that’s selfish. Or maybe it’s just human.
From the people I begged to love me
to having no one on my side.
Do you know how tired the heart gets
from always reaching, always offering,
only to be met with silence or a shrug?
I’ve wrapped so much of myself in other people’s hands
just hoping someone might hold me back.
Only way to feel these feelings out is being numb.
There’s no more room for grief when it’s all you’ve ever known.
You just stop expecting more.
Stop aching. Stop hoping.
Not because you don’t want to—
but because it hurts less when you feel nothing at all.
I’ve been numb my whole life.
Maybe that’s why I clung to you.
Because you made me feel.
Even if it was messy. Even if it was temporary.
Even if it was never real.
I’ll get what I deserve, but holy fuck I thought stars made up your eyes,
the sun radiated from your soul,
a heart as magnetic as the moon and tides it arose in my eyes,
galaxies and constellations scattered over your body.
You were art,
Even if no one else saw it—
I did.
I looked at you and saw something divine.
Not perfect, but celestial in a way that made me forget everything dark.
You’ll never know that. No one ever does.
I’ve screamed it in silence,
written it a thousand times in letters I never sent.
You don’t see what I see.
And maybe it’s better that way.
But if this is my last letter—
my last whisper folded into a night that doesn’t reply—
just know this:
You meant something.
You were someone to me.
You were the light I wished I could hold
before it disappeared into something I couldn’t follow.
