Lately, my marriage has felt a bit distant, like a flickering light that once shone brightly but now fades in and out, leaving me in the shadows. I don’t know when things started to change, but I’ve become acutely aware of how little appreciation I feel. It’s as though I’m living in a house full of memories, yet somehow, I’m alone in the present moment. The warm smiles and soft gestures that once defined our relationship have become scarce, replaced by routines and small talk. I miss the spark—the feeling that I was captivating, that someone saw me beyond the surface.

I look in the mirror, searching for the person I once was, trying to remind myself that I still have value, that I’m still attractive and interesting. I want to feel seen and admired, to be reminded that I’m more than a partner or a parent, but an individual who once turned heads and captured hearts. The quiet yearning for that feeling weighs on me, and I wonder if it’s selfish to crave validation outside the walls of my marriage. But deep down, I know it isn’t about seeking attention from others; it’s about reclaiming a part of myself that feels lost.

Every day, I find myself hoping for a small gesture—a compliment, a loving glance, anything to affirm that I’m still worth noticing. Maybe it’s a sign for me to reignite my own spark, to remind myself that my worth isn’t defined by someone else’s recognition but by my own. Yet, as I close my eyes tonight, I can’t shake the hope that tomorrow will bring something different, a reminder that I am, and always will be, captivating in my own right.