being chosen publicly

there’s a quiet ache that comes with being half-seen—like standing in the doorway of someone’s love but never being invited all the way in. it’s a peculiar kind of loneliness, the kind that doesn’t scream, but settles into your bones, whispering that maybe you’re not meant to be shown. you tell yourself that love doesn’t need to be loud, that what happens behind closed doors matters more than what happens on a screen. and yet, there’s a sting that lingers when you realize you’ve become someone’s beautiful secret instead of their beautiful truth.

being chosen publicly isn’t about vanity. it’s not about needing validation or proof. it’s about presence. about knowing that you’re not tucked away in the shadows of someone’s uncertainty. it’s about someone looking at you—not just with love, but with pride—and saying, this is where my heart lives. there’s something deeply human in wanting to be seen that way. not for attention, but for acknowledgment. for the sacred comfort of being wanted where the light reaches.

we all crave that quiet assurance—the warmth that comes when someone chooses you in a way the world can see. not as performance, but as truth. it’s not about posting pictures or tagging names. it’s about the energy, the effort, the openness. it’s about someone not hesitating when love asks to be visible.

and yet, too often, we find ourselves loving people who are scared of the light. people who keep love folded up in their pockets, hidden behind “it’s just social media” or “I don’t want people in my business.” maybe they mean it. maybe they’re protecting something fragile. but still, it hurts—to be cherished privately while the world only ever sees their past, their silence, their ghosts.

because even if you never say it out loud, there’s a part of you that notices. the part that sees the remnants of old love still displayed, while yours stays invisible. the part that wonders if being unposted means being unchosen. and though you try to brush it off, it builds—a quiet, heavy ache in your chest.

here’s the truth, though: you are not hard to choose. you are not too much to be shown. you are not someone who needs to be hidden to be loved. the right person won’t make you question your visibility. they won’t hesitate to claim you in spaces that matter. they’ll make sure their world knows yours exists—not out of obligation, but out of sheer pride.

the right love will be gentle but certain. it will honor you both in silence and in sight. it won’t leave you wondering why the past is still visible while your presence stays in the dark. it will move differently—bravely, openly, truthfully.

so until that love finds you, hold steady. keep being real. keep being light. don’t let anyone convince you that your need to be seen is shallow—it’s sacred. wanting to be known is not weakness. it’s human. and one day, someone will look at you and think, how lucky am I to love something this rare—and to love it out loud.

with ink + bloom, 🌻