You lie in bed next to someone you love and still feel alone in your own mind.

You miss the way you used to reach for each other without thinking. Now you second-guess every word, every tone, every silence.

You want closeness, but your body tightens before your heart even gets a chance to speak.

You keep hoping that next week you’ll feel lighter, more patient, more connected. But instead you wake up with the same knot in your chest… the same walls you never meant to build.

You try to be grateful. You try to be calm. But the spark feels dimmer than it used to.

Your laughter doesn’t come as easily. Your softness feels harder to access.

You’ve tried talking it out, taking space, reading books, being “the mature one”  ...but nothing touches the heaviness that’s taken root underneath.

You don’t know when the fun, flirty, emotionally open version of you faded out. It happened quietly, slowly, almost without you noticing.

But every once in a while, when you see another couple laughing, touching, moving together without overthinking, you feel that ache in your chest.