The meaning behind tiramisu is to cheer me up. If you ask my friends, they would say I’m everyone’s hype person. In reality, I’m too sweet for my own good. I give people second chances all the time, and I keep friendships I don’t like because I don’t want the person to feel lonely. I even overlook some friendships because I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt me.

And I know what I’m doing is wrong. I’ll get hurt again and again until I learn otherwise. Almost thirty, my mother still crosses my boundaries (she would show up at work if she can’t get in touch), my sister never apologizes in our fights (so I apologize first), and well, Dad, you never stand up for me (or remember my birthday). Yet, if I ever raise my voice, my family would ice me faster than frosting. They’ve done it before for weeks because I expressed my feelings of being their puppet. And I never did it again.

I didn’t arrive here by accident.

I kept waiting for someone to understand how I felt. Each time I tried, my “hopes” sank a little further. My mom yelled at me for being too insensitive and for crying too much at the dinner table, and I learned that showing pain only made me smaller in their eyes. Friends would ignore me because I chose the other person’s side. Boys found me too weird because I was the nice girl. I made it a habit to be as kind as possible because I had no one to teach me except television shows. Every story seemed to say the same thing: be kind, and you’ll be loved and never alone.

The problem with me isn’t that I would hold my feelings in until I had a grudge. I recoil inside when my mom goes in for a hug. I stopped talking to friends for weeks if I feel like they’ve crossed a line. And if I’m far too upset, I won’t even hold my partner’s hand. When people overstep, I disappear into my world.

Like tiramisu, I hide my layers beneath the sweetness. I may still let people overstep my boundaries, but I’m practicing holding onto my feelings more — leaning into the anger and sadness, and creating a space at home where I can finally express them. Each layer, bitter or sweet, is part of me, and I’m learning that’s enough.