People Don’t Like Me

A letter to the ones who love loud but are met with silence.

I didn’t plan to post this newsletter today.

But it’s been sitting in my chest like a bruise that won’t fade, and I figured, maybe someone else needs to hear it too. This isn’t polished. It’s not packaged.

It’s just the truth, and the way it came to me.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re too much and never enough at the same time,

If you’re always the one holding space and not appreciated-

This one’s for you.

Read it when the silence feels loudest.

---

I was 10 when I got adopted, fresh out of an abusive situation with the Allains that would make your skin crawl. And you know what my new adoptive mom did with my trauma story? She served it up like fucking hors d’oeuvres at every church gathering, every neighbor conversation, every friendship she had, every opportunity to paint herself as the saint who saved the damaged goods. What a bitch right?

“Oh, you should have seen what she went through,” she’d say, eyes gleaming with that particular brand of savior complex satisfaction. “But look at her now- that’s because of what I’ve done for her.”

Fifteen years later, she’s still doing it I hear. Still telling my story like it belongs to her. Still making shit up about how awful and broken I was to justify her need for constant praise and attention. And I’m sitting here wondering if I’m crazy, if there’s something fundamentally wrong with me that I’m missing, some defect that makes people treat me like a supporting character in their own heroic narrative. I was a good student, stayed home, didn't sneak out, cleaned like her servant and typically told the truth.

That’s when it started- that gnawing realization that people don’t actually like me. They like what I do for them. They like how I listen. They like having someone who won’t judge them when they’re falling apart at 2 AM or in the middle of their work day. But me? The actual person behind all that emotional labor? Nah.

The Authenticity Tax

Here’s what nobody tells you about being genuine: it’s fucking expensive!

While other people are out here collecting friends like Pokemon cards, talking shit about everyone to anyone who’ll listen, building their little armies of surface-level connections, I’m over here being real and getting crickets. Dead silence. HELLO?!!!!

I watch these fake-ass girls with hundreds of friends, these people who will lie to your face and use you without blinking, and they’re never alone. They’re never sitting in their car after work with no one to call and cry to. They’re never the friend who always listens but is rarely heard.

And I’m thinking: what the actual fuck is wrong with people? Do they prefer being lied to? Does authenticity scare them that much? Are they all just pretending too, and I missed the memo about which mask to wear? Do guys deal with this shit, or are they more acclimated?

I’ve become the friend you call when your world is ending, but when I need to talk? “Oh, I’ll call you back, I gotta go.” I’ve heard that line so many times I could recite it in my sleep and run circles around you. I show up, I listen, I give a damn- and in return, I get the emotional equivalent of table scraps in a dog bowl.

The Friendship Paradox

The fucked up thing is, I know how to be a friend. I’ve got a best friend who will tell you I’m ride-or-die loyal, genuinely funny when I warm up, the kind of person who remembers what matters to you. But we don’t talk every day, and somehow that doesn’t count in the grand tally of “am I likeable?”

Because there’s this other version of friendship I see everywhere- the kind where quantity trumps quality, where being entertaining matters more than being real, where you can talk absolute garbage about people and still get invited to all the parties, events and weddings. And I just… I can’t. I don’t have the mental capacity to play that game. How tiring is this?! For real? I don’t want to be fake, and I sure as hell don’t want friends who require me to be.

So I walk into rooms with what people call a “don’t fuck with me” vibe, because honestly? I’m tired of being disappointed. I’m reserved at first, quiet, because I already know how this is going to go. People will be polite, maybe even charming, but when it comes to actual connection? When it comes to being seen and valued for who I am instead of what I provide?

Yeah, no. That’s obviously not happening.

The Truth About Truth

I ask people regularly when they seek advice: “Do you want the truth or the lie?” And you know what’s hilarious? They always say the truth. Every single time! Until it’s Tuesday, and they’re not at rock bottom anymore, and suddenly my honesty feels a little too jagged and rocky, a little too real for their comfortable bubble of self-deception.

The truth is, most people don’t actually want authenticity. They want the idea of it. They love the lie. They want to feel deep and genuine without doing the uncomfortable work of being deep and genuine. They want someone to be real with them so they can feel special, chosen, trusted and of course LIKED- but they don’t want to return that vulnerability.

And here I am, too fucking genuine for my own good, wondering why being kind gets me shit on. Some people say I’m an emotional succubus magnet, that I attract people who drain me dry because I’m too nice, too sympathetic, too willing to give pieces of myself to anyone who seems like they might give a damn.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am too nice. Maybe I should learn to be more selective, more guarded, more like those people who seem to navigate relationships without getting their hearts stomped on every other week.

The Craving That Kills You

But here’s the thing I can’t shake: I crave connection. Real, honest, messy, beautiful human connection. I want to be known, not just useful. I want friends who see my value beyond my willingness to be their emotional support system. I want to matter to people the way they matter to me. I want someone to goof around and laugh with.

And that craving? That desperate need to be genuinely liked for who I am? It’s the thing that keeps me showing up, keeps me being authentic even when it gets me nowhere, keeps me choosing kindness even when kindness gets me shit on.

Because what’s the alternative? Becoming like them? Learning to be fake and shallow and manipulative? Collecting friends I don’t actually like who don’t actually like me? Building a social life on lies and performance and carefully curated bullshit?

Fuck that.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Maybe people don’t like me because I’m a mirror they don’t want to look into. Maybe my realness makes them uncomfortable with their own fakeness. Maybe when I ask for the truth, I’m asking them to confront parts of themselves they’ve spent years avoiding or they truly hate.

Or maybe I’m just difficult. Maybe there really is something wrong with me that I can’t see, some fundamental flaw that makes me unworthy of the kind of friendship I desperately want.

I don’t know. And that not knowing sits in my chest like a pebble welded inside a metal box, heavy and cold and always there. Trapped.

What I do know is this: I’m tired of pretending this doesn’t hurt. I’m tired of acting like being genuine in a fake world doesn’t come with a price. I’m tired of being everyone’s therapist and no one’s priority.

But I’m not tired enough to stop being me. Not yet.

Because somewhere out there, there have to be other people who are just as exhausted by the performance, just as hungry for something authentic. People who understand that being liked for who you actually are is worth more than being popular for who you pretend to be.

And if you’re reading this thinking “holy shit, this is exactly how I feel!”- then maybe we’ve found each other. Maybe being authentic isn’t about being liked by everyone. Maybe it’s about being truly seen by the few people who matter.

Maybe that’s enough.

But some days, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.

If this hit you in the gut, share it. Forward it to that one friend who gets it. Let’s stop pretending we’re okay with being everyone’s afterthought.

Pieces of my memoir and thoughts coming straight to you ❤️

-Eira