April 24, 2025

I’ve spent most of my life feeling like I’m just… not seen. Like no one really notices me for who I am, and when they do, it’s usually for all the wrong reasons. I’m the kind of person who’s always on the outside looking in. I’ve never truly felt like I’ve been someone’s number one, and sometimes it feels like I’m invisible. Maybe it’s my own fault, but it’s a feeling that’s hard to shake.

But there’s another side to me, one that I don’t often show or talk about. I know I’ve done things—terrible things—that I can’t take back. I’ve manipulated people, especially girls. I’ve hurt others, both physically and mentally. There are times when I look back on some of the things I’ve said and done, and I feel disgusted with myself. I’m ashamed, but I’ve trained myself to bury that shame deep down. I’ve convinced myself it doesn’t matter, that it’s not important. But it is. And the guilt eats at me in ways that I can’t explain.

What makes it worse, I think, is the fact that I know better. I’m not blind to what I do. I’m more mature than a lot of the people around me. Not trying to sound egotistical, but it’s the truth. I can see things clearly when others are blinded by their own emotions or desires. I’m aware when I’m being deceitful, when I’m acting out of lust, when I’m making others feel worthless. And yet, in those moments, I don’t feel anything. It’s like I’ve trained myself to not react, to not care. To be numb.

Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the worst part of it all. It’s not that I hurt people—it’s that I don’t feel it. I don’t feel their pain, their sadness, or their confusion. I’ve become so desensitized to everything that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to truly care about someone else. To be sensitive. To feel empathy. And I hate it. I hate myself for it. I wish I could feel something. I wish I wasn’t so cold, so distant.

There are moments, though, when I break. When I feel a crack in the numbness. Like the other day, when I was reading the Bible. I don’t know why, but something about it just hit me so hard. I cried. I cried like I haven’t in years. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because, in those words, I see a version of myself I could have been. Maybe I’m grieving for the person I’ve lost along the way. But I also wonder if it’s too late for me to change.

I want to be better. I want to stop hurting people. I want to feel again, to be sensitive to the world around me. But I don’t know how to undo the damage I’ve done, or how to unlearn the numbness I’ve built around myself.

I guess all I can do now is acknowledge it and hope that one day, somehow, I can find a way out of this cold, indifferent shell I’ve created.

Author: Lucas Hill