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Date: ??? Sunrise.
IT WASN'T REAL, none of it was real. I know that. I've told myself that over and over again, but something inside me—something small, buried so deep it hardly ever sees the light—whispers that maybe, just maybe, it was true. Not the way it happened, not the way he looked at me, not the words he said. But the feeling, the rejection, the certainty that I'll never be wanted.
Even by myself.
I don't know what I was thinking. Sitting in that truck, breathing him in, letting my mind go where it shouldn't have. It felt so stupid, so pointless. And yet, I couldn't stop. I wanted to feel something other than this constant numbness, this weight that clings to me, dragging me down. And for a moment, I let myself believe it.
I imagined him there, touching me, kissing me, and I almost let myself give in to the lie. But then I saw his face—saw the disgust, the rejection—and I felt it so clearly. Like it was more than just in my head, like he was actually there, telling me what I've always feared to be true. That I'm not enough. That I'll never be enough. Not for him. Not for anyone.
And maybe he didn't say those words, not out loud. But something inside me did. Something that's been whispering it for a long time. I'm starting to wonder if that voice is right.
Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I give or how much I fight, I always end up feeling like this—like I'm somehow broken, like there's something missing in me that everyone else seems to have. I've spent so long trying to convince myself that I'm worth something, that I matter. But when I'm alone, in the dark, it all feels like a lie.
I've fought to survive in this world, fought to keep others alive, but I don't even know if I've accepted myself. If I ever will. Maybe that's the truth I can't face—the truth I've been running from. That no one, not even me, could want someone like this. Someone who feels empty, who doesn't belong. Someone who doesn't even know what it means to be... enough.
I keep thinking about that moment, the way it felt so real, the way his eyes turned cold, his words cutting through me like a blade. Maybe it was a fantasy, but the feeling? That was real. I don't need him to say it for me to believe it. I already know.
Maybe I'll never be accepted. Maybe I'll never be wanted, not in the way I want to be. And the worst part is, I don't think I even accept myself. Maybe I never will.
So, I'll keep pretending. Keep playing the part. But deep down, I know. I know what I am. I know what I'll never be.
