My name is Emma,
and I’m fourteen,
which means I feel everything deeply
but I don’t always have the words
to explain why it hurts.
Cole is fifteen,
and I still care about him—
that’s the part no one sees when I go quiet.
Caring doesn’t disappear just because
things start slipping.
We’re still together,
at least on paper,
at least in words that haven’t been taken back yet.
But emotionally,
it feels like I’m holding something
that’s already loosening its grip.
I don’t feel dramatic.
I feel confused.
Like I missed a step
and now I’m behind
in a relationship that keeps moving
without checking if I’m still okay.
I remember when talking to him felt easy.
When I didn’t overthink every message.
When I didn’t wonder
if I was annoying
or asking for too much
just by wanting his attention.
Now I reread texts
looking for meaning.
Looking for reassurance
that isn’t there anymore.
I don’t think Cole is a bad person.
That makes this harder.
Because it means I can’t point to one moment
and say, that’s when it broke.
It’s more like watching something fade
while pretending it hasn’t.
I feel like I’m slowly becoming
less important.
Not because he said it—
but because I feel it
in the pauses,
in the distractions,
in how often I’m the one waiting.
I tell myself not to be needy.
I tell myself to be chill.
I tell myself this is normal.
But my chest still feels heavy
when I feel forgotten.
Sometimes I wonder
if I’m changing myself too much—
being quieter,
being easier,
being less of who I actually am
just to keep things calm.
I don’t want to lose him.
But I also don’t want to lose myself
trying not to.
I still get excited when my phone lights up.
And I still feel stupid
when it’s not him.
I hate that part of myself,
but I don’t know how to turn it off.
I miss feeling chosen.
I miss feeling wanted
without questioning it.
I miss feeling secure
instead of guessing where I stand.
I don’t know if this means
the relationship is ending
or if this is just a hard part.
No one teaches you how to tell the difference
when you’re fourteen.
All I know is that lately
I feel lonely
even though I’m not alone.
And that’s a strange feeling
to carry at this age.
I still care.
I still hope.
But I also feel tired
in a way I didn’t expect love to make me feel.
Maybe this is what losing feels like—
not sudden,
not dramatic,
just slow and confusing
and full of questions
no one answers.
I’m still Emma.
I still feel deeply.
I’m still learning what love is supposed to feel like.
I just wish it didn’t feel so quiet
right now.
And maybe one day I’ll understand
that this feeling
wasn’t weakness—
it was just me learning
that even young love
can hurt
when it starts to slip away.
