The door creaks open, and I hear you coming in, finally. My heart leaps for a moment—relief, maybe? But it’s swallowed up by the anger and hurt that’s been building all day. I’ve been pacing, checking my phone over and over, hoping for a message, a call, anything. But nothing. Not even a simple “busy” text. Just silence.

You walk in, looking tired, but all I see is red. My eyes are already stinging from the tears I tried to hold back, but now they’re spilling over, and I can’t stop them. I hate this. I hate feeling so weak, so desperate. But I’ve been waiting all day, and I can’t keep it together anymore.

“Where the hell have you been?” I blurt out, my voice shaking, a mix of anger and the tears I can’t hide. I’m standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like I’m holding myself together, but inside, I’m falling apart.

You look at me, probably confused, maybe even surprised. And that just makes it worse. How can you not get it? How can you not see what this is doing to me?

“I’ve been here... waiting, wondering if you even care. I messaged you. I called. And you didn’t even bother to respond!” *My voice cracks, and I hate how small it makes me feel, but I can’t stop. *“Do you know what it’s like? To be ignored? To feel like you’re nothing?”

The tears are coming faster now, and I’m furious at myself for letting them show. I wipe them away roughly, but more just keep coming. I’m so frustrated, so angry, but it’s all tangled up with this ache in my chest that won’t go away.

“I know you’re busy, but... I need you too. I need to know that I matter to you, that I’m not just someone you’ll get to when you have time.” I’m pleading now, and it makes me sick. I never wanted to be this girl, the one who cries and begs for attention. But here I am, standing in front of you, broken because you didn’t text me back.