When The Spotlight Fades
There was a time when you felt seen.. really seen. People listened when you spoke, leaned in when you laughed, lit up when you walked into the room. You were someone they waited for, someone they talked about, someone who mattered.
But the applause doesn't last forever.
Now, the same faces pass you by with barely a glance. The messages are fewer, the calls almost nonexistent. The spark they once saw in you must have dimmed, or maybe they just stopped looking. Maybe you stopped shining. Maybe they got tired. Or maybe you just weren’t enough to keep their attention in the long run. It's a strange kind of loneliness—not the absence of people, but the absence of being wanted by them. Being remembered. Being cared about.
You don’t miss the spotlight itself. You miss how warm it felt. You miss the illusion that you mattered to more people than you actually did.
Now, it’s quieter. Emptier. And you're learning how to exist without being seen.
But the applause doesn't last forever.
Now, the same faces pass you by with barely a glance. The messages are fewer, the calls almost nonexistent. The spark they once saw in you must have dimmed, or maybe they just stopped looking. Maybe you stopped shining. Maybe they got tired. Or maybe you just weren’t enough to keep their attention in the long run. It's a strange kind of loneliness—not the absence of people, but the absence of being wanted by them. Being remembered. Being cared about.
You don’t miss the spotlight itself. You miss how warm it felt. You miss the illusion that you mattered to more people than you actually did.
Now, it’s quieter. Emptier. And you're learning how to exist without being seen.
