The Sadness With The Light Of Hope

The Attachment and expectations within

I am a person who gets attached easily—
Even with small talks, I get attached.
Attachment is good, but the expectations it brings aren’t.

I don’t know why, but when people share words with no weight,
I feel them deeply, as if they hold meaning.
It’s strange how fast I grow attached,
And though attachment feels warm,
Expecting the same warmth in return—hurts.

Maybe I just want to receive what I give,
To be recognized as I recognize them.
Why do I expect so easily?
It was better when I gave without expecting,
When I simply lived, without waiting for something in return.
Now, it’s hard to keep giving while hoping—
Hoping for small gestures, something to hold on to.

The more I expect, the more I notice—
How they choose others over me,
How busy they are, how distant they seem.
It stings. Their silence hurts.
These expectations push me to step back,
To keep our talks small, even when I want to say more.
It makes me wonder—
Is my presence just a shadow in their world?

I don’t know who to tell,
Afraid of being called dramatic, a worrier, a weirdo.
So I lock these feelings inside,
Hurting from the weight of attachment’s frame.

I am strange. I cry over friendships,
Over small changes that make me feel unseen.
But maybe that’s okay.
They are who they are, and I shouldn’t expect.
I should give—because that’s who I am,
Not because I expect the same in return.

The chaos within me will end
If I let go of expectations.
If I give without hoping,
Then neither friendships nor my heart will break.