I’ve always been an emotionally intense person, deeply craving the presence and affection of my favorite people. Their attention, care, and love are the oxygen that sustains me. Without it, my life seems to grind to a painful halt. The absence of their warmth leaves me grappling with a profound sense of anxiety and a heartache that feels almost physical, lodged deep in the left side of my chest.

This need to always be connected to them isn’t just a fleeting desire—it’s a constant, unyielding necessity. When they aren’t there, when they don’t check on me, a wave of sorrow crashes over me, and I find myself struggling to keep my head above water. It’s as if their absence pulls the very air out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath, yearning for their reassuring presence.

Writing this now, I can feel that familiar ache, a dull pain that throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat. It’s not just an emotional experience; it’s visceral, tangible. To cope, I often turn to music, letting the vibrant, upbeat rhythms wash over me, offering a temporary escape from the relentless tide of my emotions. It doesn’t erase the sadness, but it provides a brief reprieve, a momentary balm for my aching heart.

Today is one of those days. None of my favorite people have reached out, and the silence feels like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The music in my ears is a lifeline, its cheerful notes trying to pull me out of my melancholic abyss. But even as I let the beats carry me, the sadness lingers, a shadow that refuses to be fully dispelled.

I know it might seem strange, this intense need for connection, this profound dependency on the emotional presence of others. It’s a vulnerability that’s difficult to admit, a raw, open wound that never quite heals. But it’s also a part of who I am, an intrinsic element of my being. I don’t mean to burden others with my neediness, but this is my reality, my struggle.

In moments like these, I can’t help but wonder if there are others who feel the same, who battle with the same overwhelming emotions. Perhaps, like me, they find solace in music, in the small moments of joy that can be snatched from the jaws of sadness. It’s a strange kind of duality, feeling both deeply connected and utterly alone.

As I write this, I’m not looking for pity or sympathy. I’m just trying to articulate the complex, often contradictory emotions that swirl within me. Maybe, in sharing this, I can find some clarity, some understanding. And maybe, just maybe, others will see a reflection of their own struggles in my words and feel a little less alone.