disappointment

I think I'm just... disappointed. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I expected too much from people who never asked me to expect anything from them. But at the same time, weren't they supposed to be my friends? Isn't it normal to assume that the people who care about you would check in, especially when they know you're going through something this heavy? They knew I was grieving. They knew I was flying home because of it. And yet not one of them thought to send a simple "safe flight" or ask if I landed okay. It wasn't about the message itself. It was about what the absence of it represented. I keep trying to rationalise it. Maybe they were busy. Maybe they forgot. Maybe life got in the way. But I can't keep making excuses for people when they never even realised they hurt me. I think what stings the most is that if it were any of them, I would've remembered. I would've checked in without thinking twice. It would've been instinct. That's probably my problem. I keep assuming people will care the way I do, when in reality they don't. It's a strange feeling, realising that the people you considered your support system didn't even notice you were carrying something this unbearable. I wasn't asking for anyone to fix my grief. I just wanted to know that someone remembered I was going through it. Maybe I expected too much. Or maybe I've just been settling for too little and convincing myself it's enough. I don't know. I'm not angry. I don't even want to confront anyone. I think I'm just quietly re-evaluating the space people occupy in my life. Because disappointment has a way of changing your perception. It doesn't make you love people less overnight, but it makes you stop expecting them to catch you when you fall. And maybe that's the lesson here. Not everyone who calls themselves your friend will show up when it matters. Sometimes you only realise that when you're already standing in the middle of your worst days, looking around, and finding no one there.