When you die, I die.
No one loves me more than my mother—
as hard as it is to admit.
No one loves me more than my aunty—
as hard as it is to admit.
No one loves me more than my grandma—
as hard as it is to admit.
These three women… I’m so reluctant to admit they love me more than anyone else I know. And the fact that they might be the only three people truly in my corner? That terrifies me.
The reason I’ve clung so tightly to “friends” is because, deep down, I’m scared that when my family is gone, I’ll be left with no one who’s known me from day one.
Not one person—not even my closest friends, if I can even call them that—truly knows me. Truly loves me. And why would they?
They have their own families, siblings, people who are tied to them in ways I’ve never had.
I’m tired.
Tired of people not showing up for me.
Tired of people not being there when I need them.
Tired of constantly pushing myself to be there for others,
because I’m afraid that if I don’t show up… they’ll leave.
And yet those same people—
they keep hurting me, unknowingly.
They don’t realise that their presence in my life holds such weight.
But why would they?
They don’t have to think about showing up for me all the time.
They’ve got their own lives, their own families—
biological ties, blood connections, that security I’ve never known.
Feeling separate,
feeling different,
feeling like I’m not like everyone else—
it hurts.
More than anyone could ever understand.
It breaks my heart to say all of this.
It scares me.
Because when my family passes away, I know I’ll go too.
As lonely as I feel now…
what’s left of me then will just be a shell.
There will be no point in continuing.
No one can fill that pain—
that ache, the void, the hollow space in my chest—
the scar of my abandonment issues.
Not a future husband or wife,
not a friend or best friend,
not even someone I consider a sister.
Because no one will ever understand me
or love me the way my family does.
And even with them, I still doubt if I’m really loved.
I’m tired of feeling unlikable,
unlovable,
unwanted.
The idea of falling asleep and never waking up feels like the most peaceful ending.
And I hope that’s how I go—after they do.
After everything I’ve been through, all the trauma, all the feeling of being unseen, misunderstood, not belonging…
Dying after they’re gone feels like the only thing that makes sense.