The answer......

The clock ticked loudly in the background, each second echoing the emptiness inside me. I had spent so many years trying to be perfect for everyone else, but what did it get me? Empty promises. Broken relationships. And a heart that seemed to have lost the capacity to heal.

I looked at the picture frame on the shelf, the one with all of us—laughing, happy, carefree. The version of me who believed in love, in trust, in the people around me. That person was gone now. She had been replaced by this hollow shell who couldn’t even recognize herself anymore.

What happened to me?

I used to believe in the goodness of people. I used to trust without question. But somewhere along the way, I lost that. I became someone who second-guessed every word, every gesture, every look. I doubted the intentions of the very people who had once made me feel safe.

And they? They grew tired. Tired of the constant need for reassurance, tired of the walls I built up around myself. They left. They walked away, one by one, like shadows fading into the distance.

I couldn’t shake the thought. Maybe if I had been different. If I had been stronger. If I had been braver, they wouldn’t have left.

Maybe it wasn’t them at all. Maybe it was always me.

I picked up my phone, scrolling through messages that had long since been ignored. There were so many apologies, so many attempts to bridge the gap that I had created, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. The guilt weighed me down, chaining me to this feeling of worthlessness.

I couldn’t face them. I couldn’t face the reality of what I had become.

But as I stared at the screen, a thought flashed through my mind.

What if they were right? What if everything they said about me—the coldness, the distance, the constant push and pull—was true? What if I really was the problem?

A message notification popped up from Noah.

"Are you okay? I miss you. We need to talk."

I stared at those words. He was one of the few who hadn’t completely abandoned me. But even he was drifting, his words laced with concern and frustration. How long could he keep putting up with this?

Was he tired of me too?

I opened the message and started typing, but nothing came out. I wanted to tell him everything, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to explain this pain, this emptiness that consumed me every day. How could I tell him that I was too broken to be fixed?

I dropped the phone back onto the bed, my hands shaking.

The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier. More suffocating. The quiet was louder now, reminding me of all the things I had lost.

I knew the answer now. I had to face it. I had been the problem all along.

But what terrified me the most was that, no matter how much I tried to change, it felt like this was who I was. This was the version of me that people saw—the one who pushed them away, the one who could never be enough.

And deep down, I knew there was no going back.

The damage had been done.

And all I was left with was the question: Am I the problem?

And the answer? It haunted me.

Yes. I am the problem. It has always been me.....

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