Left on Request
After that last blog, you’d think I would’ve learned. But no. Today marks the fifth day since I followed her new account—her__she__yy_—and sent that dumb message: “See, I’m the real one.” Since then, I’ve checked her profile like it’s my morning prayer. Every. Single. Day.
And every day, the result’s the same.
She hasn’t accepted the request. She hasn’t even seen the message.
But here’s the twist—she did see the request. It’s been sitting there. Ignored. Just like that. Cold. Silent. Blank.
Five days. Five full days of her knowing I reached out. And still—no response. On the day I followed her, she had 11 followers and 11 following. Today? 12 followers, 16 following. She’s clearly active. Following others. Letting others in.
But not me.
I felt like curry leaf in curry—used for the smell, thrown for the taste.
And just when I thought the silence was loud enough to kill me, she did something worse—she reacted to an old reel I had sent. Not the message. Not the follow. But a reel. One from long ago. Like she opened Instagram just to let me know:
“Hey, I saw you. I saw everything. But I still chose not to reply.”
That’s the deadliest move. A direct hit.
She wanted me to know she was online. She wanted me to see that notification. And the message? Still unseen. Still rotting.
That one reaction was like her whispering, “I know you’re waiting. I know you’re watching. But I don’t want to talk.”
What do I even do with that?
Nothing hurts more than being deliberately ignored. She could’ve just stayed away. But no, she had to react to that reel. It’s like giving water to someone dying of thirst—and then yanking it away.
That’s when I realized—I’m not a priority. Not even a footnote.
She’s just being nice. Polite maybe. But never interested. And I? I’ve been living off delusions like it’s oxygen.
So today, I told myself: Stop. Stop wasting time. Stop hoping.
But deep inside, I know tomorrow I’ll still open Instagram. Still check that follower count. Still look for a miracle that was never mine to expect.