What I Understand — And What I Cannot

You truly have no measure of how deep and sharp the pain of neglect really cuts. You give effort only when your mood inclines you; meanwhile, every part of my mood, my peace, and my heart comes to depend entirely upon your actions — or your lack of them. How you choose to treat me day by day does not only shape us; it sets the tone of every quiet corner of our home. I have learned to accept so much already: no flowers, I understand. No surprises, no planned dates, no small gifts — I tell myself I understand. You have never once taken me walking through a mall or sitting together in a simple restaurant, and I have learned to soften that longing too. Even when the things I truly need or hope for are never bought or given, I swallow the disappointment and say nothing. But what I cannot understand — what no patience can make right — is this: how you expect me to stay happy, when I am never made to feel wanted, never truly loved. Like so many other women I see, I have simple, gentle wishes: to be taken out sometimes, even to humble places that cost little at all. To be loved openly and proudly, in daylight and in public — not hidden away behind closed walls, left to puzzle out life and happiness all by myself while you are near yet distant. I watch others receive small attentions, kind gestures, steady care, and enough provision to breathe easily… and I ache because I too was made for that same warmth. Instead, I remain inside these four walls, forced to invent happiness for myself when every part of me longs to build it with you. Sometimes I ask the heavy question over and over: Why be with me at all, if you will not treat me as I deserve? And deeper still: Why hold me tightly and refuse to let me go — when you have no intention of loving me fully? I know it is convenient for you; I am quiet, I adjust easily, I do not demand loudly — yes, I am “easy” to keep. But what about me? What about the heart that longs? What about the feelings you leave frozen and unmet? For two long years now, my world has shrunk to this one room and these same heavy thoughts. I spend my days turning everything over in my mind, overthinking every silence and every lack, because there is so little else to fill my hours. It is a cruel, quiet truth: it is never easy to feel you are living alone… even when you are technically living beside someone.