Fucked Up Life 🥲ðŸ˜
The day I realized that being a good person doesn’t mean people will treat you wellI don’t know when it happened.I don’t know when being a good person became the reason I kept getting hurt.Maybe it happened slowly, every time I said yes when I wanted to say no. Every time I put someone else’s needs before mine. Every time I convinced myself that if I helped someone today, they would remember me tomorrow.I thought that was how love worked.You show up for people. You make sacrifices. You help when they need you. And somewhere along the way, they begin to care about you the same way you care about them.But lately, I’ve been questioning everything I ever believed about people.Because I’ve met so many people in my life, and I keep finding myself in the same position.I’m there when they need me, but somehow, they’re never there when I need them.And the worst part?
Sometimes, I don’t even realize I’m being used until everything is already over.I went there to learn about my own cultureI came to Uttar Pradesh for a reason.I wanted to understand my culture better. I wanted to learn about the marriages, the rituals, the traditions, and the things that people in my family seemed to know naturally but that I had never really experienced myself.I wanted to see how things happened.I wanted to be part of the celebrations.I wanted to learn something about where I came from.It was my first time there. Everyone knew that.I thought people would guide me, explain things to me, and help me understand what I had come so far to experience.Instead, I found myself working.One task became another. One responsibility became five. Every time somebody needed help, I was available.And because I was available, people kept asking.And because I didn’t know how to say no, I kept agreeing.I became so busy helping everyone else that I forgot why I had come in the first place.There were three marriages during that period.I missed two of them.Think about that for a moment.
I travelled to another state to experience my own culture, yet I missed the very experiences I had travelled there for.And yes, I know I could have refused. I could have said that I had come to learn, that I wanted to attend the weddings, that I had my own reasons for being there.But I didn’t.I kept saying yes.I kept telling myself that helping family was the right thing to do.I kept believing that someone would eventually notice what I was sacrificing.Nobody stopped me and asked, “What about you? Didn’t you come here to experience these things too?”Maybe they didn’t realize how much those moments meant to me.Maybe they thought I was happy to help.But nobody asking me that question hurt more than I expected.Because sometimes, you don’t need people to do something extraordinary for you.You just want them to remember that you came here for yourself, too.The wedding I missed for ₹500The last wedding was different.It was one of the best weddings in my family, and almost everyone went.Except me.I arrived on the day of the wedding, when most of what I had wanted to experience was already happening or over, and then I left again.
Why?Because my uncle had injured his hands.He needed help, and I stayed.I stayed for almost two months.I told myself it was the right thing to do. He was family. He needed someone. I could manage my own plans later.So I put my plans aside again.I missed another important family occasion, another memory I could never get back, another experience that I had genuinely wanted to have.And then, on the day I was leaving, my uncle gave me ₹500.Five hundred rupees.I remember looking at the money and thinking, What the fuck is this?It wasn’t that I expected to become rich by helping my uncle.It wasn’t even about the amount itself.It was about what those five hundred rupees represented to me in that moment.
Almost two months of my time.My missed experiences.My own plans pushed aside.The things I had wanted to learn but never got around to learning.And a feeling that I couldn’t explain without sounding ungrateful.I didn’t want a price for being family.I wanted to feel that my time mattered.I wanted to feel that somebody understood what I had given up.I wanted somebody to say, “I know you sacrificed a lot to help me. Thank you.”Maybe he thought the money was a kind gesture. Maybe he had his own difficulties. I can’t know exactly what he intended.But I know how I felt.I felt like all those weeks had passed without anyone really seeing me.And I hated myself a little for feeling that way, because I wondered whether expecting consideration from people made me selfish.That is the strange thing about being a people-pleaser.Even when you feel hurt, you start questioning whether you have the right to feel hurt.You defend everyone else before you allow yourself to admit that something hurt you.Everyone knows the traditions except meNow, when people talk about the marriages, the rituals, and the traditions I wanted to learn about, I sometimes feel embarrassed.They know things I don’t.
They have memories I wasn’t there to make.They understand experiences I travelled so far to witness, yet somehow missed.And when I don’t know something, people make fun of me.They laugh.They ask how I could not know.And I sit there thinking about how strange life can be.I came here because I wanted to learn these things.I wanted to understand my culture and feel more connected to it.But I became so occupied with helping everyone else that I never got the chance.And now, the very things I wanted to learn have become reasons for people to make me feel ignorant.I know that, ultimately, I was the one who agreed to take on those responsibilities.I could have made different choices.But I wish somebody had understood that I was new there, that I didn’t know everything, and that I needed guidance rather than another task.I wish somebody had cared enough to show me around instead of simply finding another way to use my time.Sometimes, the sadness isn’t about what you lost.It’s about what you were hoping to find.I wasn’t just looking for wedding memories.I was looking for belonging.Today, something broke inside meToday was the last straw.I asked my uncle whether he would come to pick me up.My uncle and aunt said yes.So I believed them.I made my plans based on what they had told me. I trusted their word because, well, they were family.
Then nobody came.Instead, I was told to book a taxi and come by myself.Maybe there was a reason. Maybe something changed. Maybe they didn’t think it was a big deal.But to me, it felt like one more example of the same thing happening again.I had spent so much time making myself available to other people.I had rearranged my plans, missed experiences, and stayed when I could have left.And when I needed something as simple as someone showing up when they said they would, I was left to figure it out myself.I sat with that feeling, and something inside me changed.I thought about the boy I used to be.The boy who believed that being kind was enough.The boy who trusted people’s words.The boy who said yes because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone.The boy who thought that if he kept giving, eventually somebody would give back.And for the first time, I felt angry at that version of myself.I wanted to tell him to stop.To stop trying so hard.To stop believing every promise.To stop making himself useful just so people would keep him around.To stop confusing being needed with being loved.Because those two things are not the same.Someone can need everything you do for them and still fail to care about what happens to you.
That realization hurts in a way I cannot properly explain.I don’t want to be the good person anymoreA part of me wants to become selfish.Not the kind of selfishness that destroys other people’s lives.Not the kind that lies, manipulates, or deliberately hurts people.I’m talking about the kind of selfishness I should have learned years ago.The kind where I can say no without writing a paragraph to justify it.The kind where I can protect my time without feeling guilty.The kind where I can leave a situation that makes me feel unwanted.The kind where I stop sacrificing important moments of my life for people who wouldn’t make the smallest effort to protect those moments for me.I want to stop being the person everyone can call whenever they need something.I want to stop being available simply because someone asks.I want to stop believing that every request is my responsibility.And I want to stop expecting people to love me just because I have done things for them.Maybe that is the real lesson I needed to learn.Kindness without boundaries slowly turns into abandoning yourself.
You keep telling yourself that you are doing it for others, but eventually, you look at your own life and realize how much of it you have given away.The opportunities you missed.The memories you never made.The things you wanted to learn.The time you could have spent building your own future.All because you were too afraid to disappoint somebody else.And somewhere along the way, you became the person who was always disappointed.Did nobody ever love me?Sometimes, when I’m alone, I ask myself a question that I don’t even like admitting.Has anybody ever genuinely cared about me?Or have people simply liked having me around because I was useful?I know that might sound dramatic.Maybe it is.But when you repeatedly experience situations where you give more than you receive, you eventually start questioning the meaning of every relationship in your life.You begin replaying old memories.You wonder whether people ever appreciated you or whether they simply appreciated what you could do for them.You question the people who promised to help you.You question the people who called you family.
And eventually, you start questioning yourself.Was I stupid for trusting them?Was I wrong for expecting them to care?Did I make myself so available that people forgot I had feelings too?I don’t have all the answers.And I know that one person’s actions cannot define every person in the world.But right now, I am tired.Tired of being the one who understands everyone.Tired of finding excuses for people who disappoint me.Tired of pretending that things don’t hurt just because I don’t want to create problems.Tired of smiling when I want to ask somebody why they treated me that way.Most of all, I’m tired of feeling lonely around people I thought I could count on.Because there is a particular kind of loneliness that comes from having people around you but not knowing who would actually show up for you.And I think that is the loneliness I am trying to understand.Maybe my innocence wasn’t the problem.
For a while, I thought the answer was to become a worse person.To become cold.To stop caring.To make sure nobody ever gets the chance to hurt me again.I even told myself that the kind version of me had died today.But perhaps that isn’t entirely true.Maybe the kind version of me doesn’t need to die.Maybe he just needs to stop giving everyone unrestricted access to his life.Maybe he needs to understand that love is not something he has to earn by becoming useful.Maybe he needs to learn that saying no doesn’t make him a bad nephew, a bad relative, or a bad human being.Maybe he needs to understand that he can love his family without sacrificing every part of himself for them.And maybe, for the first time, he needs to choose himself.Not because he hates everyone.But because he has spent so much time trying to make other people happy that he has forgotten what it feels like to be happy himself.I still want to be kind.I still want to help people.I still want to believe that genuine relationships exist.But I don’t want my kindness to be the reason I keep losing pieces of my life.I want to become someone who can help without expecting love in return, but who also knows when to walk away.
Someone who can trust people slowly.Someone who understands that family is important, but that his own life matters too.Someone who no longer says yes just because he is afraid that saying no will make people stop loving him.This time, I choose myselfI don’t know what happens next.I don’t know whether the people who hurt me will ever understand how I felt.I don’t know whether they will remember the time I spent helping them.And maybe I will never get the apology or acknowledgment I secretly wish for.But I am beginning to understand that I cannot spend the rest of my life waiting for other people to recognize my worth.I have a life of my own to build.Things I want to learn.Places I want to see.Experiences I want to have.A future I want to create.And I don’t want to look back ten years from now and realize that I spent all that time being useful to everyone except myself.
So no, I don’t want to become evil.I want to become wiser.I want to become stronger.I want to become comfortable with disappointing people when protecting my own life requires it.I want to stop treating every invitation as an obligation and every request as a responsibility.And the next time somebody asks me to give up something important, I want to pause and ask myself one simple question:If I say yes to this person, what am I saying no to in my own life?Because my time matters too.
My experiences matter too.My feelings matter too.And I matter even when I have nothing to offer anyone.Perhaps that is the lesson I should have learned long ago.I don’t have to become a bad person to stop being an easy person to use.I just have to learn that my kindness deserves boundaries, my trust deserves care, and my life deserves to be lived for more than other people’s convenience.Maybe that boy who kept saying yes is still somewhere inside me.Maybe he is hurt.
Maybe he is disappointed.Maybe he is sitting quietly, wondering why being good never seemed to be enough.I wish I could sit beside him and tell him something.I’d tell him that he wasn’t stupid for caring.He wasn’t weak for trusting.And he wasn’t wrong for wanting to feel loved.He simply forgot that he was a person worth taking care of, too.And from today onward, I want to stop forgetting that.This time, I am not abandoning my kindness.I am finally learning not to abandon myself.
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