"This is my cousin.
He's a big Hollywood actor and comedian."

They say it with pride ...
loud, beaming, as if announcing royalty.
And I smile, because… yeah.
It’s flattering.
It’s a nice feeling.
Pride, mixed with a bit of embarrassment…
but mostly pride.

Until it’s not.

Because when the party ends,
when the introduction fades and the spotlight dims…
the phone doesn’t ring.

No texts.
No check-ins.
Just silence.

And that’s where the crash happens.

It’s this whiplash I’ve never quite adjusted to ...
the swing between being celebrated
and being forgotten.

And it stings more than I like to admit.

Because I know they love me.
I know they care.
But when their kind of love feels like a performance,
and I’m only part of the act when the crowd is watching…
it leaves a hollow echo in its place.

A kind of abandonment that’s hard to name
when the love was so loud just a moment before.

I don’t want to feel this way.
I don’t want to look at family with distance, with distrust.
But I do.
Because I’ve learned not to lean on the people
who show up only when there’s something to show off.

And here’s the irony ...
it’s not what they say that hurts.
It’s what happens after.
When the room clears out,
and I realize I was just a highlight in their monologue.

I’ve thought about saying something.
Tried soft versions of the truth.

But maybe this is the most honest thing I can offer:

I know you love me. I know you care.
And I’m learning not to need that love to be loud ...
just present.
Just real.

Because even if the calls don’t come...
even if the silence stretches longer than I hoped ...
I can still choose how I carry it.

I can remind myself that being visible isn't the same as being valued.
And that the kind of love I want…
the kind I try to give…
is the quiet, steady kind that doesn’t vanish after the spotlight fades.

So to anyone who’s felt that ache ...
of being praised publicly but held privately at arm’s length ...
I see you.

You're not needy for wanting more.
You're not ungrateful for noticing the gap.
You're just human.

And it’s okay to want to be loved well…
not just loved loud.