A Quite Rage

To me, love feels like safety, something I’ve longed for but rarely recognised. As a girl who never had emotional stability at home, love isn’t grand gestures or perfect words; it’s consistency, softness, and being chosen even on the hard days. 

It’s someone who doesn’t walk away when I get quiet or overwhelmed. I’ve learned to expect instability, so when someone stays, listens, and shows up. Maybe that feels like love. 

Unhealed wounds will definitely infect you.

I didn't think "daddy issues" are a real thing. Well..i was wrong. Having daddy issues isn’t just a phrase to me, it’s a quiet pattern that shaped how I see love and what I think I deserve. Growing up with an emotionally distant father made me crave validation from men who often mirrored that same coldness. I started confusing attention with affection and mistook inconsistency for passion. I’ve settled for the bare minimum, thinking a reply, a compliment, or not being left was enough. Deep down, I’ve been trying to heal the version of me. I’ve chosen people who only reopen that wound.

I’m tired, deep, bone-heavy tired from constantly trying to please everyone around me. It’s like I’m always adjusting, shrinking, softening myself just to be accepted, to avoid conflict, to feel enough. But the more I give, the more they take, and I’m left with nothing but a smile that feels fake and a heart that’s quietly breaking. The frustration builds like a storm I can’t release, rage that simmers beneath my skin, hurting me more than anyone else. Spiritually, I feel drained. Mentally, I’m unraveling. And sometimes, the weight of it all even shows up in my body as headaches, chest tightness, or shaking hands. 

Will this fight with my own demons ever end?