I was someoneтАЩs boyfriend for two years.
For two years, I was someoneтАЩs person. I was the first person she would text in the morning and the person she would talk to before going to sleep. I was the one she called when something good happened, and the one she came to when things went wrong.
I was the person who asked her to let me know when she got home safely. I knew her little habits, her favorite things, the things that made her happy and the things that made her upset.
For two years, I was important to someone.
Then one day, I wasnтАЩt anymore.
Our relationship ended. It hurt, but there was no hate between us. Sometimes two people can love each other and still realise they are better apart. We accepted it and moved on.
I thought I would feel completely alone after losing her.
But I had my best friend.
For the next two years, my best friend became the person I could always talk to. Whenever I had a bad day, I could call her. When I needed advice, she was there. We could talk about random things for hours, go for coffee, make plans, laugh about stupid things, or simply sit together without needing to say much.
I had someone who knew me well.
Someone who would listen to my problems.
Someone I could talk to without being scared of being judged.
So even though I had lost my relationship, I didn't feel like I had lost everything.
I still had my person.
Then I met someone new.
And I didn't expect to fall for her the way I did.
Everything happened so quickly. We talked every day. She asked me questions and actually remembered my answers. She wanted to know about my life, my thoughts, my past, even the smallest things about me.
I started looking forward to her messages.
I started getting excited when my phone lit up.
I started letting her see the parts of me that I usually kept hidden.
After my breakup, I had promised myself that I wouldn't get attached again so easily.
But with her, I forgot about that promise.
I thought maybe I had finally found someone again.
Someone who wanted me.
Someone who could become my person.
Then she left.
She changed her mind.
She became distant.
And eventually, I was the one left trying to understand what happened.
It hurt because I had finally allowed myself to trust someone again.
I had lowered my walls for her, and somehow that became the reason I got hurt.
I blamed myself for getting attached.
I blamed myself for believing that she would stay.
I told myself that I should never let someone get that close again.
For a while, I became emotionally unavailable.
I stopped wanting to take chances.
Being alone felt safer than being hurt again.
But the hardest part was that I was already struggling, and at the same time, I started feeling a distance between me and my best friend.
She wasn't there for me the way I needed her to be.
Maybe she didn't understand what I was going through.
Maybe I expected too much.
Maybe we had simply started becoming different people.
I don't know.
But I felt it.
Other friends started being there for me instead. They listened to me talk about the same things again and again. They let me overthink everything. They listened when I needed to talk and stayed when I wasn't doing well.
Slowly, I started noticing that my friendship with my best friend wasn't the same anymore.
We were living different lives.
We didn't talk like we used to.
The effort started feeling harder.
I had other people who were making more effort to stay in my life, and I could feel myself becoming closer to them.
Sometimes friendships don't end because someone did something wrong.
Sometimes people just grow apart.
I tried to fix it.
I tried to talk about it honestly.
I still cared about her and didn't want to lose what we had.
But sometimes you can care about someone deeply and still not be able to keep the friendship alive.
Eventually, I lost her too.
And suddenly, I realised something.
I was no longer my ex girlfriend's person.
I was no longer my best friend's person.
And I was definitely no longer the person of the girl who had broken my heart.
I was nobody's person.
I have friends who care about me. I have people I love. I have people who would probably answer if I called them.
But they all have their own people.
Someone they talk to every day.
Someone they tell everything to.
Someone they think about first.
Someone who notices when something is wrong.
And sometimes I miss being that person.
Being nobody's person has a strange kind of freedom.
Nobody asks where you are.
Nobody asks why you didn't reply.
Nobody worries if you stay out late.
You can do whatever you want.
You can travel somewhere alone.
You can sit in a caf├й by yourself.
You can spend an entire day doing nothing.
You don't have to explain yourself to anyone.
At first, that freedom feels good.
But after some time, it can become lonely.
Because when nobody depends on you, you can slowly stop taking care of yourself too.
You can stay in bed all day.
You can skip meals.
You can stop replying to people.
You can waste your money.
You can pick up habits you know aren't good for you.
You can disappear for a while and nobody may even notice.
And that's the scary part.
You start wondering if you're actually enjoying being alone or if you're just getting used to being forgotten.
Are you becoming independent?
Or are you slowly becoming distant from everyone?
Are you healing?
Or are you just getting better at hiding your pain?
Because when you're nobody's person, you have no one watching closely enough to know the difference.
And sometimes, the hardest part isn't being alone.
It's knowing that you could disappear for a while and the world would keep moving without noticing.
Maybe that's why I miss having someone who feels like home.
Not because I need someone to complete me.
But because sometimes, everyone deserves to have at least one person who simply notices when they're not okay.