Reader’s Letter

“I’m in one of those on-again, off-again relationships I just can’t seem to put down. I know I’m only getting crumbs of affection. There’s no need to explain it to me, no need to open my eyes, I don’t need an outside perspective to see what’s going on. I see the situation clearly from the inside—and sometimes even from the outside, as if it weren’t happening to me at all, like I’m just watching myself go back again. Once again, I’m waiting for a message, a half-sentence, a reaction, some tiny sign I could read into and tell myself that maybe I matter after all.

I’m always the one who texts. I obviously never call, just so I won’t be a bother. I’m the one who goes over to his place from time to time—without being invited. All that really happens is that I message him asking if maybe we should meet, and if the time works for him, he’ll see me. We don’t make plans together. I spend my weekends and evenings at home. Basically, I end up being happy about the replies I manage to squeeze out of him after a few messages. I know this isn’t enough. I know this isn’t a relationship, it isn’t presence, I don’t matter. And yet, I’m still in it.

I don’t think being alone is heroic or liberating, or always some kind of self-discovery journey. When loneliness closes in around you, you don’t long for big things, not a whole loaf of bread—just a little bit of attention, the feeling that you matter to someone. A crumb. Whatever is there. Or rather, whatever you can convince yourself is there. Because the idea that there isn’t even a crumb is a much scarier state to be in.

There’s self-blame in me too, neatly wrapped in awareness. I know exactly what others would say, because the questions are already lined up in my own head: why am I doing this to myself, why don’t I walk away, why am I settling for so little? And I know the answer as well: because I’m constantly waiting for something to change, for the moment when I’ll finally be important. Of course it won’t happen—I know that too. It’s just that logic isn’t always stronger than absence. Common sense doesn’t always win against the desire to belong to someone, even if only halfway, even if only sometimes, even if only when it’s convenient for them.

Maybe the most painful part is having to admit that what I’m holding on to doesn’t really exist at all. It doesn’t hurt just because it’s too little, but because it’s empty. There’s nothing to build on, nothing to rely on, nothing I can honestly call a relationship. I never wanted to make decisions out of pride, and I always believed that love and persistence can move mountains if you do it right. I didn’t write this to ask for advice. I wrote it so that those who are in a similar place can see that they’re not alone.”