I Can Feel Myself Isolating Again

I can feel myself isolating again.

Texts left on read.
“I’m sorry, I forgot to respond.”
Ignoring calls. Pretending I’m busy.

When really, I’m sitting somewhere alone watching my phone ring.
Staring at it with tears in my eyes while something deeper inside me whispers, pick up.
Ask for help.

Because it’s happening again, and I’m scared to go back there.
Scared because I don’t know how long I’ll stay this time.

I’m doing everything I can to push everyone away.

I keep telling myself:
“I’m not depression-prone. I’m too happy for  that. Too active. Too alive. Too good at masking.”

But maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe I’ve gotten so good at performing okay that nobody notices when I’m drowning.

So I stare at my phone knowing I should answer.
Knowing I shouldn’t be alone right now.
The call is coming through for a reason.

Leave them thinking my phone is away while I get another run in.

But I’ve gotten so used to being alone.
And I fucking hate it here. 

Still… It feels easier this way.

Easier to receive bad news alone.
Easier to hear another successful love story alone.
Easier to spiral where nobody can watch it happen.

And the worst part is —
I know how to pull myself out of this.
I’ve done it before.
So part of me says: just survive it again quietly.

But alone doesn’t always feel peaceful anymore.
Sometimes it feels like surrender.

I saw you moved on.
And for some reason, I started spiraling.

But why?

I’m the one who left.

I knew this day would come eventually, but seeing you beside someone else cracked something open in me.
And honestly? Fuck that.
Not even because of her.
Good for you, actually. Maybe now I’ll finally stop writing about you.

But I think what hurts is realizing the person I wanted comfort from… is the same person I’m trying hardest to avoid.

Everyone around me seems to be finding love that works.
And I keep wondering:

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Jas, you never know what someone is going through.”

Yeah, maybe.
But the grass looks pretty fucking green when you’re sipping iced coffee on your way home to someone who loves you.

Switch places with me for a second.
I’m sure you’d be yearning too.

And no, I’m not a disease that needs to be cured.
I’m human.

We are literally built to connect.
To love.
To be witnessed.

So why does it feel like everyone gets chosen except me?

I know this sounds pathetic.
I know it sounds like self-pity.
But these feelings have been alive in me for three years now.

Do I even get noticed?

Small conversations.
Forced smiles.
Random men asking me my name.
People speaking to me while I mentally disappear somewhere else entirely.

And then the ugly thoughts come.

Am I ugly?
Am I too much?
Too emotional?
Too hard to love?

“God is making you wait for the right man.”

Okay, but this life is fucking hard sometimes.
And I want a safe place too.

I can wait.
I have waited.

But the world keeps revolving around me at a pace I can’t keep up with, while everyone else seems to be arriving somewhere I haven’t even been invited to yet.

Still…
I refuse to believe love isn’t meant for me.

Signed,

a soul who loves deeply. ❤️‍🩹