It’s been hard recently. I can feel David slipping further away, and it’s as if there’s an invisible barrier between us, one we’ve both been avoiding but can’t ignore any longer. Our relationship feels fragile, hanging by a thread, as though even the smallest pressure could cause it to shatter. I’ve tried to stay hopeful, but every day, the distance between us seems to grow, and I’m left wondering if he even notices—or cares.

I’ve made an effort to bring us closer, hoping he’d recognize the love I’m still trying to show. I’ve done the little things I thought mattered: leaving him notes in the morning, planning his favorite dinners, and even taking extra time to look nice for him. But he barely glances at me, wrapped up in his own world. I can’t remember the last time he told me I looked good or that he appreciated something I did. The silence of these missed acknowledgments echoes through the house, making every room feel a little emptier.

I miss the kindness that used to be part of our relationship—the warm, easy moments where a shared laugh or simple compliment was enough to make me feel loved. Now, it’s as if I’m fading into the background, like a picture on the wall he’s grown so accustomed to that he doesn’t even notice it anymore. I find myself craving the attention, the connection that once made me feel special, needed, and seen.

Sometimes I wonder if he feels the distance too but doesn’t know how to bridge it. Or perhaps he’s become content with the silence, and I’m the only one feeling the ache of it. It’s left me with a lingering question: can we find our way back to each other, or am I the only one holding on, hoping that he’ll see me again before it’s too late?