Dear Me,
You've gaslit your own heart.
You told it to stop needing what it needs. You've called its fear dramatic, its grief inconvenient, and its hunger for connection "too much." You taught it to whisper instead of speak. To stay silent instead of risk being left again.
But let's stop pretending.
The fear isn't being misunderstood. It's being forgotten. It's being abandoned. It's the possibility that you could give everything: your care, your talent, your truth... and still be met with silence. That even your best could be met with absence.
And you've learned to call that fear selfish.
You've taught yourself to shrink before anyone else can shrink you. To stay useful so you're allowed to stay at all. You've built your life on the hope that being irreplaceable will make you unforgettable.
But under that? You're tired. You're tired of performing for belonging. Tired of carrying the weight of showing up when others don't. Tired of pretending you don't care when they leave.
You want to be chosen when you're not shining. You want to be held without having to fall apart first. You want to be remembered without having to shout.
And none of that is selfish. That is human. That is sacred. That is real.
You don't have to earn permanence. You don't have to shrink your heart just because others never learned how to hold it.
You matter. Even when no one says it. Even when they forget. Even when you don't believe it.