When I cancel plans with you at the last second, I don’t think you’re going to mind. I think I’m doing you a favor. I’m saving you the trouble of having to hang out with me. I assume canceling is what you secretly want but would never say aloud. It never crosses my mind that you might actually be disappointed, that I might actually have the power to ruin your day.

I never realize I’m hurting people because I think so low of myself. I can’t imagine anyone being upset about losing me. I can’t imagine anyone caring that much about me.

That is why I might ignore your texts. I might go weeks without talking to you. I might claim I’m too busy to see you. I might drop out of your life completely.

I might shatter your heart into pieces — but I won’t realize it.

In my mind, my absence isn’t going to bother you because you can do better. You’ll get over me quickly. You’ll find someone new fast. You won’t even miss me. In my mind, there is nothing wrong with what I did, because I assume it won’t make a difference to you.

My insecurity accidentally makes me a bitch. It accidentally causes me to hurt the people closest to me.

When I turn down a party invitation, I don’t think anyone is going to get there and wish I showed up. When I fail to answer a text, I don’t think anyone is going to notice. I don’t think that I matter. I don’t think I have an impact on the people around me. I think of myself as invisible. As someone who people tolerate, but don’t actually care about keeping around.

My insecurities convince me that I am unlovable. The idea of someone being heartbroken over losing me as a friend or a love interest does not register in my mind. It just doesn’t make any sense.

I don’t feel like I have the power to let anyone down. To disappoint them. To make them feel bad about themselves.

I can’t imagine anyone staring at their phone, waiting for my text to come through. I can’t imagine anyone sitting up in bed, replaying the words I said or failed to say. I can’t imagine anyone missing me, wishing that I would come around again, that I would be there for them.

I have such low self-esteem that I have trouble seeing how much other people care about me. When they ask to hang out with me or tell me they miss me, I think they’re just being polite. I don’t think they mean it.

It’s hard for me to see myself as someone worthwhile, someone with value, someone who people actually want to be friends with or go out on dates with or have a conversation with — which is why I end up hurting people who don’t deserve it. I end up giving them the same kind of pain I’ve been working my whole life to avoid.