I'm Sorry...
I’ve been sitting with this ache in my chest, trying to find the right words, but I don’t think there’s a perfect way to say this. So here it is: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way my insecurities sometimes take over and make me crave more attention than I should. For needing constant reassurance, even when I know it’s not fair to ask. It’s not because I don’t believe in my worth—it’s because, deep down, I’m still learning how to. I hate that my neediness can feel overwhelming, that it might make me seem selfish or too much. It’s something I’m painfully aware of, and it’s exhausting to carry. The fear of being forgotten or not being enough is something I’ve battled for as long as I can remember. I know these feelings don’t come from others but from inside me—old wounds and scars that I thought I’d moved past but still find myself carrying. They whisper lies, telling me that I have to do more, be more, demand more, or else I’ll be left behind. And sometimes, I let those whispers control m...