Explosion

You don't see me. Not really. You see a critic woman who's always trying to fix you. But all I want is to love you and to be loved by you. I long for your touch, your smile, and your gentle words. Instead, I'm met with your cold silence or sharp retorts.
 
Every careless comment, every forgotten promise—it all chips away at my self-esteem. I'm constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing when the next explosion will occur.
 
Why does it always have to be like this? I pour my heart into you. Every ounce of love and care I possess. Yet, it's never enough. You see my efforts as suffocating and my concerns as nagging. Is it too much to ask for a little understanding?
 
My soul attempts to take flight, but the weight of your apathy keeps it grounded. It's exhausting, soul-crushing. I'm tired of being the strong one, the one who always picks up the pieces. I wish I could just disappear. Fade into the background and become invisible.
 
Maybe distance will heal the wounds, or perhaps it will only widen the chasm between us.
 

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