Love is a word I’ve heard all my life. It’s a word that’s supposed to heal, to comfort, to give meaning to our existence. It’s supposed to be the thing that makes life worth living. But for me, love has always felt like a distant star, twinkling just out of reach. Everyone around me seems to have found it, held onto it, basked in its warmth, while I stand in the cold, wondering why it hasn’t found its way to me.
I’ve tried to understand why I always seem to be the one left behind, the one who isn’t enough, the one who isn’t seen. I’ve loved so deeply, given so much of myself, and yet, it’s never enough. The love I give is never returned the way I need it to be. It leaves me feeling empty, bruised, and questioning my worth. Maybe I’m too much for some people, or maybe I’m just never enough for anyone to choose. All I know is that I’m tired of standing alone, waiting for love to come to me.
The love of a lover
If there’s one love that’s supposed to fill you up, it’s the love of a partner. The one person who’s meant to see you at your lowest and still choose you. The one person who’s supposed to look at you and make you feel like the world is a little less heavy. But that kind of love has always eluded me.
I’ve been in relationships where I gave everything. I loved with all my heart, hoping that they would love me the same way. But no matter how hard I tried, I always felt like I was the one doing all the work. I would send texts, plan dates, ask about their day, be there when they needed someone to talk to. And yet, when it was my turn, they were always too busy, too distracted, too wrapped up in their own lives. It’s like I was invisible to them, even though I gave them every part of myself.
I always felt like I was just an option in their lives, never a priority. They’d promise to be there, but somehow they always had better things to do. I was the person they’d turn to when they were bored or lonely, but the second they found someone else or something more exciting, I was pushed aside. It was never about me—it was always about whatever they needed at the moment. They’d tell me they loved me, but their actions never matched the words. And every time that happened, I felt like a part of me died inside.
It’s hard to explain what it feels like to love someone so much and never have them love you back in the same way. It’s like you’re constantly pouring yourself into them, but you’re always met with an empty cup. I kept waiting for the moment when they would finally see me—the real me—and love me the way I needed to be loved. But it never came.
love from family
Family is supposed to be the one place where you’re unconditionally loved, where you’re safe and accepted no matter what. But for me, family has never been a source of comfort. It’s always felt like I was the odd one out, the one who didn’t fit.
I grew up in a house where love wasn’t something that was shown openly. There were no hugs, no tender words, no “I love you’s” said just because. There were no moments where I felt truly seen by my parents. I was always just there. Existing. Sometimes, I would catch glimpses of the love my siblings received—how they were supported, how they were understood. But I never felt that.
It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me, I know they did, but it was always different from the love I saw in other families. Their love felt like an obligation, something they had to do because they were my parents. It never felt like a choice. I longed for the kind of love that was warm, that made me feel like I mattered just as much as everyone else. But that was a love I never received.
And as I grew older, it only became harder. I would turn to them in times of need, but I never felt like they were truly there for me. I would reach out for comfort, but it was like I was speaking a different language. It felt like no one ever understood me, no one ever truly saw me for who I was. It was like I was just one of the many roles I played in their lives—daughter, sister—but never truly loved for who I was.
That kind of love—the kind that’s supposed to be unshakable—was never something I felt from my family. And that left a hole in my heart that nothing else could fill.
love from friends
I always thought that friends would be the family I chose, the ones who would see me for who I truly am. I thought that if I didn’t find love in the places I expected, I could at least find it in my friendships. But time and time again, that hope has been shattered.
I’ve watched as my friends connected with each other in ways I couldn’t understand. They’d share moments, inside jokes, and secrets that I was never a part of. It was like I was there, physically present, but emotionally distant. I would try so hard to be the friend that everyone wanted—supportive, caring, loyal—but still, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in.
I would try to fill the spaces that no one else seemed to notice, trying to make myself useful, trying to be a good listener, trying to be the person they needed when they needed someone. But when it was my turn, when I needed them, I was always met with silence. It was like I wasn’t important enough to be the one they turned to when things were tough.
I would be standing there, surrounded by friends, and yet, I felt more alone than ever. I was always the one who made the effort, the one who reached out, the one who made time. But somehow, I was never the first person they thought of when they needed someone. I wasn’t the one they turned to in times of joy or sorrow. I was just there. I wasn’t a priority—I was an option.
It’s a painful thing to realize that even in the people you care about, you might never truly belong. To be the one who always gives, but never receives. To give love, but never feel it in return. It’s like being trapped in a room full of people and still feeling invisible.
why am i always left out?
Sometimes, I wonder why I’m always the one who feels left out. Why, even when I’m surrounded by people, do I still feel like I’m not seen? Why do I have to try so hard to be noticed, to be cared for, to be loved? It’s a question that haunts me, that keeps me up at night.
I look around at the people in my life—my family, my friends, my lovers—and I see them connected to others in ways I’ll never be. I see them laughing, sharing moments, making memories, and I wonder why I’m never the one they want to share those moments with. Why do I always feel like I’m watching life from the side-lines?
I try to remind myself that maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s not my fault. But it’s hard to believe that when you’ve spent so many years giving pieces of yourself to people who never saw you for who you truly are. When you’ve spent so many years loving people who can’t love you the way you need.
the weight of being an option, not a priority
The hardest part is realizing that I’m often nothing more than an option to the people in my life. I’ve spent so much time waiting for someone to make me a priority, but I’ve learned that I’m just not that for anyone. I’m always the backup, the last resort. The person who’s there when they have no one else, but never the first person they turn to.
And that hurts more than anything. To love someone with everything you have, only to realize they’ll never love you the same way. To give everything to your friends and family, only to feel like you don’t matter at all.
I want to matter. I want to be the person someone can’t imagine their life without. I want to be the one who’s chosen first, the one who’s loved without question, the one who makes someone’s world better just by being in it. But that’s a love I’ve never gotten.
And it’s a love I still long for.
There are days when the pain of never feeling truly loved feels suffocating, like I’m drowning in the emptiness. But even in the darkest moments, there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe one day, I’ll find the love that’s been missing. Maybe one day, someone will choose me the way I’ve always wanted to be chosen.
Until then, I’ll keep searching for the love I’ve never gotten, hoping against hope that one day, it will find me.