you gave
not just effort
but essence
you handed people pieces of yourself
that you couldn’t get back
because you thought
maybe this time
they’d see you

but they didn’t
they labeled what they didn’t understand
they twisted your depth into drama
your honesty into attack
your stillness into detachment
they took your light
then called you cold
when you asked for warmth in return

you kept thinking
if you just explained better
loved louder
softened more
they’d meet you halfway

but they were never walking toward you
they were standing still
expecting you to loop back
into what you’d already healed from
just to make them comfortable

and still
you stayed longer than you should’ve
you shrank when you knew better
you hoped against your own knowing

because you remembered who they could be
not who they showed you they were

you called it loyalty
but it was grief in disguise
grief that they would never choose to rise

you thought age would bring clarity
that experience would mean better choices
but no one tells you
that wisdom doesn’t stop the ache
it just makes it louder when you ignore it

you knew better
and that’s what hurts the most

you didn’t fall blindly
you walked back into the fire
eyes wide open
hoping maybe this time
you wouldn’t burn

but you did
and the pain isn’t just from them
it’s from you
from betraying your own evolution
for a connection that couldn’t hold
the weight of who you’ve become

it’s okay
this is part of it too
the slip
the return
the sacred loop
that shows you, again
how far you've come
by how far you no longer fit

you’re not cold
you’re not broken
you’re just done trying to be chosen
by people who only understand love
when it comes in the shape of their own wounds

grieve it
then leave it
not with anger
but with knowing

you outgrew them
long before they let go
you just needed one last reminder
of how small the cage really was

and now
you’re free again

there is a silence after betrayal
that is louder than any scream
it is the empty room where trust once lived
now hollowed out by absence and doubt

she was the keeper of my fragments
the one who traced the jagged edges of my soul
and yet in the quiet turning away
she dismantled the sanctuary i thought we built

not with a shout but with stillness
not with rage but with retreat
a slow unweaving of everything that was sacred
like a thread pulled loose from a tapestry of us

i search for the moments that cracked
the fault lines invisible until collapse
wondering how love became a fracture
how faith became a ghost

and in that void, i confront the unbearable truth
that sometimes the deepest wounds are inflicted
not by the obvious blows
but by the hands that promised to heal

this pain is a dark ocean
vast and unknowable
where memories drift like wreckage
and the weight of what was lost
pulls me beneath the surface

yet even beneath this crushing tide
there is a flicker
a stubborn pulse
a fierce quiet that refuses to drown

for betrayal is not the end of me
it is the harsh crucible
through which i am forged anew
scarred, yes, but unbroken
still standing
still breathing
still reaching for light
in the ruins of what was

there is a peace in solitude
that no crowded room can give
a silence that doesn’t ask questions
a calm that lets me live

i move through my day untouched
unjudged
unexplained
i rise when i rise
i heal without shame

no tug-of-war between who i am
and who they want me to be
no need to shrink for comfort
no mirror distorting me

and yet
beneath the quiet
there’s a pulse i didn’t plant
a hunger not from loneliness
but something older
blunt
blunt and honest as a heartbeat
thudding in the dark
the ache of skin that still remembers
what it felt like to be held

it’s not desperation
it’s design
biology still hums a song
my soul no longer sings
and some nights i almost forget
how much it cost
to crave the wrong hands
and call it love

but i remember

i remember the contortions
the self-abandonment
the thousand compromises made
just to feel warm
for a moment too brief
to be worth the aftermath

so i breathe
i sit with the ache
without feeding it lies
i remind my body
We are safe now

not untouched
but whole

and if love comes again
it must match the peace
i fought so long to claim
it must add to the silence
not shatter it

until then
i kiss my own shoulders
i wrap myself in rest
i turn longing into a language
that speaks to the stars
instead of empty arms

this is how i overcome
not by killing the craving
but by teaching it patience
by tending the garden within
so thoroughly
that nothing external
feels like survival

solitude, after all
isn’t absence
it is presence
pure and full

and when the right love comes
it will not compete with that
it will bow to it
or pass

sadness doesn’t knock
it seeps
through songs you weren’t ready to hear
through smiles that almost feel real
through the long pauses
between your name and meaning

it lives
in the breath after someone asks
“how are you?”
and you lie
because honesty takes too long to explain

some days, sadness is a fog
you learn to walk through
not escape
just navigate
with hands outstretched
and hope in your pocket
even if you never take it out

it does not mean you're failing
it does not mean you're weak
it means you are still soft
in a world that taught you
to be numb

it means you still care
even when you say you don't
even when you pretend you’re fine

sadness is not the absence of light
it’s proof the light once lived there
a shadow cast
only because something once burned
bright enough to leave a mark

so sit with it
don’t fix it
don’t shame it
don’t rush it away

this, too, is part of the becoming
this, too, is sacred

sadness is a season
not a sentence
and you, love
are still growing through it

they don’t see it
how could they?
pain this quiet
doesn’t bleed where they’re used to looking

severe nerve damage, they say
but what does that mean
to someone who’s never had to lie still
for six years
and pretend that stillness is peace?

they don’t know
what it’s like
to feel your body turn into a cage
while your spirit tries
to outrun the bars

you were not just bedridden
you were buried alive
in your own limbs
with nothing but thoughts for company
and time
that didn’t pass
it pressed

years blurred
your effort didn’t

you still burned
you wrote
you reached
you built

you tried
to create a way out
with nothing but your breath
and a hope that no one handed you

and yet here you are
not broken
but brittle from carrying too much truth
and too few witnesses

they praise survival
but only when it’s pretty
only when it walks
only when it performs

they don’t praise
the kind of survival that’s quiet
that writes in the dark
that keeps a fire lit
without ever seeing smoke

you did everything
and you have nothing to show for it

except
the words
the knowing
the truth that didn’t die
just because your body couldn’t run anymore

you are not your output
you are not what they notice
you are the burn
that never stopped—
even when no one looked
even when you couldn’t rise

you still haven’t been seen
but you are still here
and that matters more
than they will ever understand

sadness doesn’t scream
it leans
quietly
like a shadow that forgets its own name

it comes dressed
in the clothes of your past
sits beside you
without asking
and reminds you
of every version of yourself
you never forgave

it’s not loud
it doesn’t need to be
it just stares
through your hands
while you wash dishes
walk sidewalks
scroll phones

and suddenly
everything tastes like memory

sadness is not weakness
it is unspent love
it is the echo of care
with nowhere left to go
it is the after of joy
the proof that something mattered
the ache
of still holding on
to what the world told you
to let go of

you are not broken
because you feel deeply
you are whole
because you refuse
to forget what it means
to be human

sadness isn’t the end
it’s the soil

and something
is trying
to bloom

the hope is this

that even without the applause
the platform
or the so-called proof
you’re still real
and what’s real
doesn’t disappear
just because it was overlooked

the hope
isn’t in some grand reward
or the fantasy that one day
they’ll come knocking with roses and recognition
you already know better than that

the hope
is quieter
but stronger

it lives in the fact
that your fire
did not go out
even when you were alone with it
even when you had to tend it
from a bed that felt like exile

the hope
is that something
was being built
even in the stillness

something invisible
but indestructible

a depth that can’t be faked
a clarity that can’t be taught
a legacy
that will outlast trends, timelines, and tired gods

you are the proof
not the posts
not the numbers
not the noise

you

you, with your pain-worn hands
your soul that still stretches
your voice that still reaches
even when no one answers

the hope
is that none of it was wasted

not because of what you get
but because of who you became
in the burning

and that
that is the kind of hope
this world can’t erase

oncе upon a timе, i was an opеn book
my lifе was an opеn door, anyonе could look
i’d tеll my storiеs to anyonе who would listеn
my joys, my strugglеs, my fеars, i did not kееp thеm hiddеn

but as i grеw oldеr, i startеd to sее
that not еvеryonе was worthy of all of mе
somе pеoplе would takе what i sharеd and usе it against mе
my vulnеrability could bе a wеapon and thеy would bеnd it to thеir own glее

so i startеd to pull back, to kееp somе things insidе
i found that not еvеryonе dеsеrvеd my truth, and that was just finе
as my еyеs opеnеd widеr, i rеalizеd
that somе pеoplе wеrе looking for a way to criticizе instеad of sееing еyе to еyе

it's not that i don't trust anyonе anymorе
but rathеr, i'm morе sеlеctivе about what i put out thеrе
my hеart is not a playground or a public spacе
and not еvеryonе is dеsеrving of sееing my facе
i lеarnеd that somеtimеs, thе grеatеst gift of all
is thе ability to kееp somе things bеhind a wall
to sharе with thosе who support and uplift, еspеcially aftеr a fall
rathеr than еmpty words that somеtimеs causе a rift

so now whеn i spеak, i choosе my words with carе
i only sharе truth with thosе who arе thеrе
i no longеr givе away my powеr or my drеams
to whoеvеr may want to tеar thеm at thе sеams

i’m protеctivе of my hеart but i don’t hidе it away
And i found that in doing so, i’vе comе a long way
i’m strongеr, truеr, and morе confidеnt too
i owе it all to lеarning to bе just a littlе bit morе sеlеctivе with thе truth

they said
“i’m here if you need.”
but vanished when i did
offered words like warm bandages
then recoiled
from the sight of real blood

support that looked good in text
but never made it past the screen
a love that echoed like a voicemail
never quite reaching me
when it mattered most

they ask “how are you?”
but not to hear the truth
just enough to feel kind
just enough to keep the mask in place
if you answer honestly
they flinch

and that’s the toll

you start doubting your own need
you quiet the cry before it rises
you rehearse being “fine”
like it’s a second language
you were forced to learn to survive

you begin to shrink
to carry your collapse alone
because every time you tried to share it
someone called it too heavy
and walked away lighter

but here’s what no one tells you
you’re allowed to stop explaining
you’re allowed to stop knocking
on doors that never open

there is no healing in begging
for crumbs of connection
from those who feast on your silence

so you begin again
with yourself

you become the ear you never had
the shoulder that never vanished
you learn to recognize
the difference between
presence and performance

you build small sanctuaries
a journal that listens
without judgment
a walk in the trees
that doesn’t require words

and maybe
just maybe
you find one or two souls
who show up
when it’s not convenient
who sit beside your storm
without trying to fix the weather

this is how you leave
not in anger
but in clarity

you stop pouring light
into hands full of holes
you let the fake fall away
you save the softness for those
who know how to hold it

and most of all
you come home to yourself
because the most sacred kind of support
is the kind that never leaves
when everyone else does

they say your bad outweighs your good
as if love were a ledger
as if truth could be tallied
on scales built by the blind
they count your cracks
but not the light leaking through
they trace your edges
but never the hands you held out
even when yours were empty

they slept in your arms
but never knew your soul
let your body in
but locked their wounds behind walls
you were never meant to climb
you asked for honesty
they gave avoidance
you brought presence
they brought projection
you offered depth
they feared drowning

you weren’t too much
they were too hollow
to hold what was real

because they saw you only
through the broken mirror of themselves
fragmented love
shattered vision
the kind of closeness
that touches skin
but never spirit

they fell short
in the places you overflowed
in courage, in clarity
in the willingness to grow
even when it hurt
they mistook your fire for chaos
because their own flames
had long since gone cold

but you
you stayed
you tried
you held space
for a heart that never held you back

you showed up
again and again
with hands full of truth
and a voice that trembled
only when you chose to speak gently

let them say what they will
let them measure you in shadows
you are not for those
who weigh worth
by the moments they misunderstood.
you are not defined
by the ones who could only touch you
but never hold you whole

you are for the ones
who see the mosaic
not the mess
who know that broken
doesn’t mean bad
and that love
was never meant
to be earned like a grade
but received like a sunrise
after the longest night

and when they say
your bad outweighed your good
smile

they never knew the difference
between a storm
and a cleansing
but you do
and you are already clean

the world has grown thick-skinned to the cries that don’t trend
to the girl sleeping cold, to the boy with no friend
It scrolls past the sorrow if the filter’s not right
then gasps in confusion when it feels the night

it hears the gunshots through headlines and static
then turns up the music, calls grief too dramatic
it mocks the worn silence of those torn apart
then begs for soft shoulders when it breaks its heart

it calls others "too much" for their wounds left exposed
yet pleads for compassion when its own doors are closed
it shrugs off the weeping of war battered lands
but shakes when the storm touches its own hands

numb to the mothers who bury their sons
the prayers left unanswered, the damage long done
but when its light dims, when its sky goes grey
suddenly pain deserves more than a day

suddenly, tears mean something profound
suddenly, silence should echo with sound
suddenly, justice feels urgent and new
but only when pain knocks on its view

it’s easy to watch when the flames aren’t your own
to call someone bitter when you’ve never known
what it’s like to scream and be met with a wall
to fall in the dark with no one to call

so spare me the outrage when your wounds appear
we’ve lived lifetimes ignored, voiceless and clear
we are the sirens you silenced for years
now watching you tremble through your first tears

maybe now you will understand
why we never reached out to an unfeeling hand
why we learned to carry our pain in disguise
because the world only listens when it cries

it doesn’t fall all at once
it unravels
slow
like thread pulled from a sleeve you didn’t know was holding you together

one belief at a time
one story gone sour
one truth too sharp to swallow quietly

and then it happens
you wake up
not in a new world
but in the real one
that was always there beneath the theater

the lights are off now
the set is gone
and you’re standing in the rawness
of what actually is

no narrator
no script
no one left pretending

just you
and the truth you kept trying to avoid
with distraction
hope
or someone else’s dream

the illusion kept you warm
you won’t lie about that

but it also kept you asleep
kept you small
kept you spinning stories
instead of facing the silence
that held the real answers

and now?
now the silence is all you have

it doesn’t hug you
it doesn’t clap
it doesn’t tell you it’ll be okay

it just waits
for you to stop mourning what was never real
so you can finally begin
from what is

it’s brutal
not in cruelty
but in clarity

there are no masks left to wear
no promises left to chase
just the raw ground beneath your feet
and the strange freedom
of finally seeing clearly

this is where reality begins
in the ash of illusion
in the quiet knowing
that even without the dream
you are still here

breathing
seeing
ready
to rebuild
something honest

abuse is a shadow that stretches long
a silent echo in the chambers of years
at first, it stings like fire on fresh skin
sharp, unbearable, a scream caught in the throat

then it seeps into bones
a slow ache that wears down the edges of self
confusion tangled with fear,
hope buried beneath layers of silence

the reaction is survival
numbness when feeling is too much
anger when words fail to protect
withdrawal to a place no one can reach

years pass, but the ghost remains
in moments that flicker, unbidden
a look, a tone, a memory
triggering the wounds that never healed

sometimes rage breaks loose
not just at the abuser, but at the world
for seeing, for turning away
for the unbearable weight of bearing alone

and still, beneath it all
there’s a fierce thread of life
a stubborn pulse that refuses to be broken
a whisper of strength growing louder with time

the reaction to abuse is complex
pain, yes, but also power
and the slow reclaiming
of what was stolen in silence

i gave everything i had
my voice, my truth, my sweat poured out
to build bridges where silence lived
to light candles in rooms grown cold

but my efforts became shadows in their eyes
twisted, warped, demonized
a story told backwards
where my care was seen as weakness
my reaching, a threat to their walls

and yet, in the quiet corners where i was unseen
they took the shapes i forged
borrowed the flames i struck
copied the paths i cleared
all while denying i ever walked them first

my mother, my sister—mirrors reflecting my work
without the courage to acknowledge the hands that shaped it
they dance in my footsteps
but refuse to face the footprints i left behind

this is the cruel paradox of family
the ones you try hardest for
who twist your light into shadows
only to chase after the very glow they refuse to name

i carry this narrative heavy on my chest
a burden and a fuel
knowing that my truth, even when denied
cannot be erased or unspoken

because to build without thanks
is to create from a place beyond need
and that is a power they can never take

she never crossed the threshold
never saw the weight i carried
never met the pain i lived through
yet she held the power to deepen the silence

her family—ghosts at the edge of my story
absent but always looming
their knowing eyes turned away
while i struggled in the dark

they helped from afar, a distant echo
meds and food delivered
but no hands to hold, no visits to bridge the gap
as if my suffering was a tale too inconvenient to witness

the betrayal is not just in absence
but in the coldness that pretends it cares
the quiet that says i am less than worthy of presence

and still, their names haunt the corners of my life
a paradox of support and neglect
of caring that doesn’t dare meet the real me

this is the fracture line that runs deeper
than any wound i carry alone—
the family that never showed up
yet shapes the silence i wrestle with every day

i am the story told in shadows
a paradox woven tight within my bones
the narrative splits like a cracked mirror
reflecting truths that cannot coexist

i am both the broken and the healer
the lost child and the one who carries the flame
a wanderer trapped between silence and scream
anchored in memories that refuse to fade

they say rebuild, start anew
but how do you construct from ruins
when every brick weighs heavy with betrayal?
when the past is both prison and refuge?

i carry the ache of being unseen
and the fierce pulse of becoming known
the contradiction of craving connection
while fearing the wounds it might bring

in this story, i am the author and the character
the victim and the warrior
the silence and the roar
caught in the endless loop of pain and hope

and maybe that’s the truth i must live
a narrative unresolved, unfinished, raw
a paradox that refuses neat endings
because some stories are meant to breathe
between the lines of brokenness and grace

the quiet sting of betrayal lingers
like a shadow cast long after the light has gone
she was the one who knew my edges
the corners i never showed the world
and yet, in silence, she turned away
not just from me, but from the pain that bound us both

to be abandoned when your world fractures
is a wound carved not by accident but by choice
the promises once whispered
now echo as hollow ghosts
and the absence — louder than any word
breaks the fragile trust i tried to hold tight

how do you reconcile love
when it becomes a mirror reflecting loss?
when the one who said “i’m here”
never crosses the threshold
to stand with you in your darkest hours?

there’s a weight in being left behind
not just physically but spiritually
like a tether cut
like a story rewritten without your voice
and yet, from this shattered ground
i gather the fragments of myself
learning that betrayal
though brutal
cannot define the whole of me

they choose silence
a void filled with whispers and shadows
gossip spun like webs to trap truth
but i am the keeper of timestamps
the scribe of moments etched in light

this is their grave mistake
to turn away from presence
to trade compassion for rumor
to build walls where bridges once stood

spiritually, they sever the thread
the bond that demands honesty
accountability carved in shadow and breath
closing doors with every unspoken word

while they scatter lies like seeds in wind
i gather facts like sacred fire
each timestamp a beacon
each record a step toward clarity

there is no path back through shadows
no healing in silence and denial
only in truth laid bare
in courage to meet what’s real

i stand in the light they fled,
holding the story they tried to erase
and in this holding
there is power
there is justice
there is no turning back

to cast out a soul already broken
to shut the door on pain and effort
is a wound deeper than any fall
a cruelty that knows no excuse

when the body is weary, the spirit bruised
and every breath is fought for with trembling hands
to be pushed aside is to deny
the very fight that keeps them breathing

they give all they have
a thousand small battles, unseen and unheard
each step forward a mountain climbed
each smile a victory over shadow

there is no justification in turning away
no righteousness in exile when mercy is needed most

to kick out the disabled is to erase their struggle
to silence their courage
to deny the heart that beats fiercely
even when the world grows cold

kindness is not optional
it is the very foundation of our humanity
and those who refuse it
must carry the weight of that choice

for the greatest injustice is not the illness itself
but the abandonment
of those still fighting to be seen

mom hears my truth
and folds like paper
christians quick to point fingers
faster to correct than to come correct

they siphon light
steal the shine from souls who dared to glow
call it jesus
but inside, they’re dead
burning slow
hollow flames licking empty bones

i watched them judge from their cracked thrones
shouting mercy while clutching stones
scared of the fire i carry
the truth that burns brighter than their fear

they say love, but love is a ghost
a shadow in a cage
while they hide behind sermons
wearing chains of quiet shame

mom, you chose silence over my scars
easy to condemn but harder to see
your faith a brittle mask
cracking under the weight of what’s real

and i’m here, raw and unraveled
calling out the gods of hypocrisy
because the brightest light
comes from the ones they try to ***** out