Part 1: The Weight of Silence, I think I am a burden to him
Remember that feeling? When the one thing that matters to you most — the one person you feel completely comfortable with — suddenly starts seeing you as a stress. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that way, but I just did, and it hits you like a ton of bricks. It’s as if you went from being someone’s comfort to becoming their burden.
At first, it was all smiles and light conversations. The kind where you can just talk about anything without hesitation, without judgment. We had that. Or at least, I thought we did. I could say the most random things, and you’d still laugh. I could talk about my worries, and you’d listen without flinching. You were my safe place.
But now, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The comfort has turned into caution. I see it in the way you look at me — those brief moments of hesitation, the quick glances away, the polite but distant nods. It’s like you’re doing everything to avoid spending time with me. I feel like I’m carrying a sign that says “stress” in big, bold letters.
I don’t know what changed, and that’s the worst part. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something I shouldn’t have? Or maybe it’s just that I’ve become too much for you to handle. Whatever it is, I feel like I’m a problem that no one can ever solve.
It’s a sinking feeling, like watching a friendship or a relationship slowly slip through your fingers, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You try to fix things, to bring back that comfort, but the more you try, the more it seems to push them away. It’s like quicksand — the harder you struggle, the deeper you sink.
And it makes you question everything. What if I’m just too much for everyone? What if I’m the common denominator in all my failed relationships? What if I really am a stress, a burden, a problem that can’t be fixed?
I don’t have the answers, and I don’t know how to change what’s happening. All I know is that it saddens me to see someone who once found comfort in me now seeing me as something to avoid. It’s a loneliness that cuts deep, and I’m not sure how to heal from it.
But maybe there’s a way forward. Maybe there’s a reason for all this, a lesson to be learned. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m willing to find out. Because even in the darkest times, there’s always hope, right?
“Stay tuned for part two, coming in two days, where I’ll share what I’ve learned and how I’m moving forward. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
