Always Almost Enough

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Always Almost Enough

Some days, my mind drifts.

Not to one person, but to several.

Different men, different memories —

some kind, some confusing.

All meaningful in their own way.

I think of the one who made me laugh.

The one who challenged my thinking.

The one who said sweet things but disappeared.

The one who stayed too long but never stepped forward.

Each left something behind —

a smile, a scar, or a what-if.

I wasn’t the person they chose to hold onto.

Not in the long run.

Not for real.

I’m not angry.

Just wondering why I am always almost enough.

But no one ever chose me.

Not really.

Not fully.

You sang to me like it meant something,

like the chords were written just for me.

I believed in the way your voice softened

when you said my name.

We talked for hours,

about life, the world, nothing at all.

I brought my mind,

you brought surprise and sweetness.

Sometimes the distance was a quiet killer.

So close in thought,

so far in everything else.

You joked when I needed answers,

and I didn’t always get the joke.

We laughed a lot.

We dreamed, flirted, questioned, wondered.

I hurt you with an analogy, and quotes,

I wouldn't stop the quotes.

It is how I can make sense of the thoughts in my head.

I’m not angry.

Just wondering why I am always almost enough.

But no one ever chose me.

Not really.

Not fully.

I spent time with someone

who is now gone from this earth.

We knew each other in ways

you can't explain to anyone else.

But it still wasn't enough.

I was too different.

Too deep, too curious, too much.

Or maybe not enough

for anyone to stay.

One had charm and softness,

but a life too different from my own.

Another always made me feel wanted, desired,

but age does matter, combined with distance.

I’m not angry.

Just wondering why I am always almost enough.

But no one ever chose me.

Not really.

Not fully.

Dear God.

I’m not angry.

Just wondering why I am always almost enough.

I recently wrote the lyrics to a song called Always Almost Enough. The words came from a place deep in my heart—one of those quiet aches that does not go away easily. I used Suno, an AI-powered music tool that lets you turn written lyrics into full songs with vocals and production. It is surprisingly intuitive and gives people like me—who write from the heart, but can't hold a tune—a way to hear those feelings come to life.

There’s a certain kind of silence that comes with being almost enough. Not rejected in a loud way—just quietly passed over. Again and again. You were not the worst. You were not the best. You were meaningful, memorable even. Just not chosen. Sometimes they stayed a while. Sometimes they said all the right things. But in the end, they did not stay. Not fully. Not really. It makes you wonder what exactly was missing. Too much? Too different? Too intense? Or maybe not quite enough of whatever it is people are looking for. You may have even been truly sincere, when sincerity was far from their intention. You become someone’s good memory, a once-loved voice in their inbox or call log,

But not someone’s person. Not the one they build with, stay with, fight for.

It is not bitterness. It is that lingering ache that sits with you quietly. Not loud, not sharp. Just steady. The hardest part is not being alone. If you love yourself, you do not mind being alone. It is knowing you were almost something real. That you mattered—but not quite enough to be the one they held onto. And after a while, you stop asking to be loved loudly. You just hope to be enough for someone one day. Maybe I was never fully chosen, even in my marriage—but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t worth choosing. If they could not see that, or did not value me, that is not my failure to carry. I always care deeply, and I do not ever regret it. What I give is honesty, always. They may not have chosen me, but that doesn’t change who I am.