The Lie I Have Lived

I have lived a lie for a while now

and I hate it,

and I am tired of it.

There were really good days and times,

days that felt warm,

days I felt loved, supported, cared for,

days I believed everything would finally become real.

And maybe that is what hurts the most

because I truly believed in it. Still do to some degree 

But the bad days,

the sad days,

have become louder than the good ones lately and previously most of the times.

I feel lied to.

I feel played.

I feel hidden.

I feel lost.

I feel like I give more,

do more,

love more,

fight more,

yet somehow it is never returned the same.

I feel alone

despite having someone beside me.

Eight years of promises,

eight years of waiting,

eight years of intentionally choosing this,

holding on,

hoping,

praying,

believing the words would finally become truth.

And now trust feels broken.

My emotional being feels neglected.

My desires unheard.

My loyalty stretched thin.

I gave my all.

My life.

My soul.

I loved deeply.

I cared deeply.

I supported wholly.

I prayed for this endlessly.

I let so many people go

while fighting for this

because I believed so deeply in it.

I was faithful to it.

I still am.

But nowadays,

presence speaks louder.

Silence reveals more than words ever could.

And I find myself asking:

Has this all been a lie?

Some days are good.

Some days are unbearably hard.

Some days I still see hope.

Other days I feel completely abandoned inside myself.

I desire genuine love❤️

Sincere attention.

Loud love.

Real support.

Financial support 

Emotional presence.

Not hidden love,

not uncertain love,

not promises hanging in the air year after year.

I want to stop forgoing my joy,

my true happiness,

my peace,

my identity, true self and nature

just to keep something alive

that may already be dying.

And what scares me most

is wondering if my twenty-something years,

the years I have known this,

the last eight years of waiting and believing,

will all feel wasted.

Will I ever be the same again?

Will my heart ever respond the same again

after loving this hard?

God, help me overcome this.

I am tired.

If this is not it,

give me a sign.

Because I need truth now.

Not confusion.

Not hidden things.

Not empty promises.

I need to be loved right.

I need to be loved loudly.

And for the first time in a long time,

I think I am finally begging myself

to stop surviving a love

that is slowly breaking me.

*****

I pray this does not break me,

does not teach my heart

to fear giving love another chance.

Because trust was broken,

promises whispered softly

then left hanging in silence.

And truthfully,

I am scared of tomorrow.

This was never something

I wanted to gamble with.

Not this.

Not us.

From over twenty years ago,

the first time our eyes met,

it felt deep, genuine 

a friendship,

a cord that felt unbreakable.

When we were together,

we disappeared into our own world.

Nothing else mattered.

We shut the world out

and all that existed

was us.

This one,

I loved deeply.

Maybe more than I loved myself.

Somewhere in the loving,

I lost pieces of me.

At times I felt supported,

felt loved hard,

felt chosen.

But mostly,

I felt absence.

Why wouldn’t you pick my calls

when I needed you?

Why did I feel alone

while loving someone so deeply?

Why wasn’t the person I ran to

the same person I was running for?

There has always been

a missing puzzle piece,

a silent gap

I could never explain.

You are a good person.

A kind soul.

God-fearing.

And I know love existed there.

I felt it.

But lately…

I don’t know anymore.

Now I am torn,

tired,

lost between memories and reality.

Part of me still believes.

Part of me still waits.

Because deep inside,

my heart still feels like it belongs there.

But if this version of me breaks completely,

the woman who believed in us

may never return again.

And I am terrified

of losing hope entirely.

God, give me a sign.

I cannot live forever

on promises

and absence.

I understood the battles.

I tried to love quietly.

Tried to support gently.

But every time I voiced my pain,

my fears,

my questions,

I became insecure,

too needy,

misunderstanding

I was shutvor ignored

So I silenced myself

and promised never to bring it up again.

But what happens to a heart

that keeps swallowing its own grief?

What next, God?

Where do we go from here?

I stand at a crossroads

with tears in my eyes

and hope still somehow alive in my chest.

Because despite it all,

I remain optimistic.

I still believe

better days are ahead.

I will laugh again.

I will love again.

I will walk down the aisle one day,

held wholly,

loved loudly,

chosen fully

without confusion,

without absence,

without fear.

Because I am worthy of real love.

I am a lovely human being.

And I deserve the kind of love

that stays,

that reassures,

that answers,

that holds gently

and never makes me beg

to feel seen.

********

The tears are drying up,

and somehow that scares me more.

Feelings are fading slowly,

and letting go is hard.

I have always questioned

how good relationships fail,

how unions collapse,

why divorce happens

when two people were once friends,

when they once felt and knew 

and maybe still know 

that this was forever.

Maybe it is a test,

maybe lessons, growth, or life itself.

I honestly do not know. Only time will tell.

I am scared.

Scared to imagine

what we had with someone else.

Then again,

we cannot force issues,

and I cannot force us

or force myself

into what is not reciprocated.

I am truly tired.

We were the envy of many.

We laughed hard,

loved deeply,

cared deeply.

This had such a strong friendship foundation.

Now I cannot even speak to you

the way I used to.

I cannot share my thoughts,

my feelings,

the jokes, memes, reels, and quotes,

the kind of jokes only we understood,

because somewhere along the way

I was shut out

for mugging,

for not providing

a peaceful haven.

As I retire to bed tonight,

I am at peace,

yet scared of slowly letting go,

but still holding onto

a little hope left inside me.

This was not a waste.

I remain hopeful for better days ahead,

for a change of heart,

for growth,

for softer egos,

for perspective,

for maturity emotionally.

And if this is to work moving forward,

then maturity, selflessness, empathy,

understanding,

being heard loudly,

and true presence

for what truly matters

must exist between us.

Because if we do that 

if we truly do 

then maybe there is still something worth saving.

And as I have always said,

people make time

for what matters

and what they prioritize.

Respect, too,

is key.

********

My amazing daddy loved me hard, still does. 

and all my siblings in equal measure.

He cared deeply, to present 

he was always present, still is. 

a provider,

a protector,

a man who loved my mother loudly

without shame, without hesitation. To date 

And today,

I am not sorry to say

I was loved hard and loudly by my father.

Anyone who knows my upbringing

knows my dad set the standard high.

The kind of love that is seen,

felt,

heard,

and never questioned.

He taught me that love shows up.

Love sacrifices.

Love provides.

Love protects.

Love stays present.

Love does not judge.

So forgive me if I cannot accept less

than what my father showed me,

my siblings,

and our mother.

To be loved loudly.

To be cared for deeply.

To be provided for sacrificially.

To be chosen daily and intentionally.

My father loved in a way

that made us feel safe in this world,

and because of that

I will never apologize

for seeking a love that mirrors that warmth.

A love that speaks.

A love that acts.

A love that stays.

And as I grow,

may I never settle for silence where there should be care,

or inconsistency where there should be presence.

May I continue to yearn for more,

be better,

show better love,

and never stop believing

that loud, genuine, sacrificial love

still exists.

**********

Ending Thought

Once, I remember my dad saying,

“If a man disrespects you,

he disrespects me

and how I brought you up.”

Lately, those words

have been louder than silence,

echoing through my spirit

like truth refusing to be ignored.

I like to journal

because I pour my thoughts deeply there,

the kind of thoughts

the heart struggles to speak aloud.

It's healing 

And in those pages,

I remember something else he always told me:

that love can be found again.

So tonight, as I lay down,

my father’s words cut deeper

than the sharpest knife,

not to wound me,

but to remind me

that I am worthwhile.

To remind me

not to settle for hurt,

but to embrace love

in the purest form I desire,

where there is respect,

where it does not feel transactional,

where it is not one-sided,

where love flows gently

and honestly.

I sleep tonight knowing

that tomorrow, without any reason at all,

can only be better.

Today was beautiful.

I journaled.

I felt.

I healed a little.

And as I end this,

I speak softly to myself:

You are deserving of the love

you keep trying to give away.

*********

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