When Love Feels Like Loneliness

When Love Feels Like Loneliness

A Personal Letter To The One Who Matters The Most

By Joey Raines

To whoever needs to hear this,

I’ve been feeling like nobody truly loves me. And that kind of loneliness hits harder when you're surrounded by people who pretend to care.

I see the silence. I feel the distance. I'm not blind, and I’m done acting like I don't notice.

Let me tell you what it really feels like. It feels like drowning in a room full of people who could throw you a lifeline but choose to look the other way. It feels like screaming into a void while everyone around you nods and smile like they’re listening.

You know what hurts more than being alone? Being surrounded by fake love. Being around people who act like they care but never really show it. People who text back hours later with some excuse. People who invite you out as an afterthought, if they remember at all. People who only reach out when they need something.

And when it comes to family, that pain runs even deeper. The ones who forget everything you ever did for them. Every favor, every time you showed up, every sacrifice you made. They forget all of that but hold on to the one time you said no. They remember the moment you stood up for yourself and twist it into something ugly. They turn your good into bad and never let you forget it.

The worst part is, you start to wonder if maybe this is all you deserve. Maybe this is what love is supposed to look like. Maybe you're the problem for wanting to matter to someone.

Now let’s talk about the business side of things. Family and friends who expect everything for free. They will spend their money with strangers, support other people’s work, and pay full price without blinking. But when it comes to you, they want favors. They expect hookups. They want you to be grateful that they even asked. And when you don’t give it away, they act like you’re selfish.

Somehow, your work, your time, and your life don't matter to them. Because you're family. Because you're a friend. Because they think you owe them.

I let that go on for too long. I made excuses for everyone. I told myself they were just busy. I convinced myself they didn’t mean it. I kept repeating that maybe I was being too sensitive, or that family is complicated, or they just don’t understand how business works.

But all I was doing was gaslighting myself. I was teaching my heart to accept crumbs and call it love.

The loneliness became something I carried all the time. I would lie awake at night wondering why no one could love me the way I loved them. I would replay moments in my head, trying to figure out when I crossed the line. When I cared too much. When I said too much. I would stare at my phone, hoping for a message. Just a few words to make me feel like I mattered. Maybe a simple I love you. Maybe something like I remember how you always treated me like I was your princess. Just something. Anything.

I would think about every time I helped my family. Every time I lent money. Every time I showed up. And how none of it counted when they needed a villain. I would think about all the discounts and free work I gave, hoping it showed how much I cared. And how fast they went to someone else, paid them full price, and acted like I didn’t exist.

I started to shrink. I talked less so I wouldn’t seem needy. I canceled plans so I wouldn’t seem clingy. I smiled when I felt broken. I told everyone I was fine when I wasn’t.

Then it happened. I was scrolling through social media and saw everything I had been left out of. The parties. The group chats. The celebrations. The inside jokes. All of it. And this time, instead of hurting, it hit me differently.

I wasn’t missing out on love. I was chasing the shadow of it.

These people have already made their decision. They chose how much I mattered. They chose how much I was worth. And it wasn’t much. The only person still trying to hold those relationships together was me.

So I made a decision. I put it out there for the world to see. I wrote it straight.

If you don’t love me, if you don’t value me, if you are only here out of habit or curiosity or because you like to watch, then unfriend me. Seriously. I am not begging anyone to stay.

My hands were shaking when I hit post. I was scared that everyone would actually leave. But I was more tired of wondering who was real. I was tired of guessing who cared. Tired of holding on to maybes.

Some people said it was dramatic. Maybe it is. But you want to know what is really dramatic? Acting like you care when you don’t. Ignoring someone who has always been there. Someone who showed up every time. Someone who gave everything they had. That is not just dramatic. That is cold.

I am done with all of it. My future is about healing. About love that feels real. About the connection that does not drain me. About relationships that lift me up instead of tear me down. About people who choose me because they want to, not because they feel guilty or obligated.

If that is not you, then goodbye. And I say that with every bit of love still left in me. Because sometimes the most loving thing you can do is walk away from the ones who keep overlooking the love you give.

This letter is not just a message to others. It is a message to myself. I gave everyone else permission to leave, but more importantly, I gave myself permission to stop settling.

Permission to believe I deserve more.

Permission to stop shrinking.

Permission to build a life where I feel chosen.

And in that decision, I found something better than love.

I found peace. I found clarity. I found myself.

Because the loneliness I felt was never just about being alone. It was about being invisible.

Now I see myself clearly. And I will never again accept less than real love.

And just so no one gets it twisted, this is not about my wife. She is the one who has loved me the right way. She sees me. She values me. She holds me up. She is my proof that real love does exist.

This letter is not about her. And it is not even about everyone.

It is about the ones who could never give what she gives so freely.

— Joey Raines

© 2025 Joey Raines. All rights reserved.