Enough with being delulu,,,

…I’m sorry it took me this long
to choose myself without asking permission.

I’m sorry I kept translating silence into promises,
calling absence “space,”
calling neglect “timing,”
calling your half-love enough
because I was afraid of the quiet after letting go.

I mistook endurance for devotion,
thought suffering meant depth,
believed love had to hurt
to be real.

But love isn’t a locked door.
It doesn’t make you shrink in hallways
or beg to be seen.
Love opens,
or it steps aside.

So this is me leaving without bitterness,
without slamming doors,
without needing closure from hands
that never reached back.

I forgive myself
for staying past the lesson.
For watering soil that refused roots.
For waiting where I was never meant to arrive.

I’m done confusing patience with self-betrayal.
Done calling waiting a virtue
when it was really fear in better clothes.

I walk away lighter now
not because it didn’t matter,
but because I do.

And this time,
when a door doesn’t open,
I won’t knock harder.
I’ll turn,
and choose the road
that chooses me back.

🖤