Being unseen by the person who promised to see you forever.

I once believed that marriage would mean togetherness — that I’d finally have a hand to hold through the highs and lows of life, someone who would listen to my stories, share his thoughts, and make the ordinary moments feel special.
But instead, I found myself surrounded by silence.

I thought marriage meant having a partner. Yet, I feel like I live beside a stranger.
Our house is filled with walls, not warmth. He walks beside me, but our hearts are miles apart. I laugh alone, eat alone, cry alone — while he gives his time and attention to others who don’t carry his name, who don’t share his home.

There’s a kind of loneliness that comes from being alone, but there’s a deeper kind that comes from being unseen by the person who promised to see you forever.
It’s the loneliness of watching him look at his phone when you’re right there, of speaking softly only to be met with silence, of realizing that love has turned into routine and warmth into distance.

I used to blame myself — maybe I wasn’t enough, maybe I was too emotional, maybe I should be quieter.
But now I see that my heart was never the problem.
It still beats with loyalty, it still hopes for gentleness, it still believes in love.

The truth is: I deserve more than a half-present heart.
I deserve to be chosen, not tolerated.
To be seen, not hidden.
To be loved in the way I love — fully, honestly, and faithfully.

So even if I feel lonely now, I’m learning that loneliness isn’t the same as emptiness.
It’s a sign that my soul is still alive, still reaching for something real.
And maybe, just maybe, this loneliness is guiding me back to myself —
to remember that I am enough, even when I stand alone.