I wanted to be looked at properly

Dear Delyara, Not admired. Not checked on in a generic way. Properly looked at. The kind of look that says: I can tell there is more going on in you than what you’re making visible. I can tell this version of “fine” is not the real one. I can tell the silence is carrying something. I think I wanted that all day. Instead I got the ordinary social version of being seen — enough to function, not enough to feel known. That is a very particular kind of loneliness.