All my life, I've always felt less than. Socially, emotionally… even in relationships.
Fitting in was never easy for me. Making friends wasn't either. And even when I did, I never liked being seen too much. I preferred staying in the background, where no one would look too closely.
People never really understood me. Maybe because I feel things too deeply. Maybe because I don't even understand myself sometimes.
For the longest time, I thought I was the problem. The broken one. The imperfect one in every relationship I found myself in.
But now, when I think about it… maybe it wasn't always me. Maybe it was the people I kept choosing.
Still, I always found a way to blame myself. Not because I wanted to, but because I was used to it.
I was always blamed for everything. So at some point, I just accepted it. Like it was easier than questioning anything.
But now…
Looking at him—
I wasn't ready to take the blame anymore.
"Hi," I said, my voice coming out quieter than I expected.
He smiled a little. Like nothing had happened.
"Can I come in?"
I hesitated. Just for a second.
Then I stepped aside.
"Yeah… sure."
He sat on the sofa close to the door.
"You're quiet," he said.
I didn't answer. I just kept drying my hair. I had just washed it, so I used that as an excuse to stay busy.
But even that wasn't really helping.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to just disappear like that."
"And picked my calls," I replied, my voice sounding empty.
"I know," he said quickly. "I should have texted."
I didn't respond immediately. I just looked at him for a second, then looked away.
"You said that before."
He shifted slightly. "I know… but this time—"
"But this time what?" I asked, my voice tired.
"I was busy," he said.
I looked at him for a second. Then I nodded slowly.
"Let me guess… something private?"
There was a pause.
"It's not that deep," he said instead. "You always turn everything into something big."
That made me stop for a second.
Not because I had nothing to say… but because I was tired of saying anything at all.
Tired of defending myself. Tired of explaining what I felt. Tired of always being the one trying to make things make sense.
And the truth was… I missed him.
Even now, standing there, I still did.
I looked away slowly.
"…Maybe I'm just thinking too much," I said quietly, not fully sure of my own voice.
He didn't push it. Just nodded like that was enough.
And somehow, that silence after made me feel like maybe I was the problem again.
Then he looked at me and smiled.
"I missed you."
Something in me softened immediately.
"I missed you too," I said.
There was a pause after that. Not awkward. Just familiar. Like we were slipping back into something that had always existed between us, even when it shouldn't have.
"I'm sorry for making it a big deal earlier," I added quietly.
He shook his head slightly. "It's fine."
And just like that, it ended there.
No deeper conversation. No real fixing. Just moving on like nothing had happened.
Like I was the only one who still felt everything.
Looking back now… that was the biggest mistake I made.
My mind knew it. It kept telling me something was off, that I shouldn't just let it go that easily. It was loud, clear, almost obvious.
But my heart—my stupid, vulnerable heart—didn't listen.
It refused logic. It refused reason. It just… wanted him.
And that was how I kept going back to him. Ignoring what hurt. Explaining it away. Convincing myself it was my fault every single time. Afraid that if I spoke too much, I'd look like I was nagging… like I was too much.
So I adjusted myself around him, slowly. Quietly.
I showed him everything without even realizing it—the playful side of me, the soft side, the side that laughed too easily, trusted too quickly… and worst of all, the loving side of me that didn't know when to stop.
I was the kind of person who, once I love, I'm all in. No holding back. No half feelings.
But it shouldn't have been with Cole.
I loved the wrong person.
And now… I regret it.
Blinded by love