Every time I spoke up about what hurt me, I somehow became the problem for refusing to stay silent. It’s strange how quickly people call you difficult when your honesty disrupts the comfort they found in your silence. They were comfortable with the version of me who swallowed her feelings, kept the peace and asked for nothing. But I’d rather be misunderstood for telling the truth than loved because I learned to stay quiet. If expressing how I feel makes me the villain, then maybe they never wanted to understand me, they only wanted me to remain silent enough for them to stay comfortable.
I was born for romantic love, Sunday family barbecues, quality time, lying on the chest of the person I love, spending time with my love ones,little gestures, feeling deeply, all of it.