there‘s something significant in feeling insignificant

It starts with a small silence - one you’ve heard before. A pause where a response should be.

A flicker of “maybe this time” that dims without warning. And suddenly, you’re right back in the echo chamber of your own mind, trying to remember what you did wrong.

Or worse: if you even mattered to begin with.

You tell yourself it’s not about them.

Not really.

But when your sense of self has grown roots in how others see you - how they text back, how they choose you, how they stay - then every unanswered wave feels like a mirror cracking. Suddenly you’re scattered in all directions, trying to gather the pieces before anyone sees.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s unavailable.

If maybe, without knowing it, you only reach for people who stand just far enough away.

Maybe it feels safer, that stretch between your hand and theirs. Maybe the chase is familiar. Maybe you mistake absence for mystery. Maybe you think you deserve to be chosen, but only if you earn it.

You don’t know. And it’s the not knowing that hurts most. The hollowness. The wondering if maybe there’s something invisible about you - some quietness in your spirit that makes people look past you, through you, around you.

And then comes the guilt. For wanting to be seen so badly. For feeling like significance is the only thing keeping you stitched together. You try to be enough for yourself. You try to hold your own hand. But the truth is, some nights, all you want is to feel wanted.

Not begged for. Not convinced. Just… wanted.

But maybe there’s something sacred in naming that ache. In saying, this is where it hurts, and I don’t know how to stop it yet. Maybe that’s the first step toward healing it.

Maybe.

— Lux