I don’t think anyone realizes how tired I am.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
The kind that comes from carrying every conversation home with me. Replaying every text. Wondering if I was too much, not enough, too emotional, too quiet, too needy, too independent. It’s exhausting living in a courtroom where I’m both the defendant and the judge.
Sometimes I wonder who I would’ve been if I hadn’t spent so much of my life learning to earn love instead of simply receiving it.
I hate how quickly I assume that if someone pulls away, it must somehow be my fault.
I hate that I still crave reassurance from people who have already shown me they’re inconsistent.
I hate that I can recognize unhealthy patterns while still feeling emotionally attached to them.
I tell everyone I’m becoming stronger.
The truth?
I’m terrified.
Terrified that if I stop fighting for people, they’ll disappear.
Terrified that if I stop overexplaining, I’ll be misunderstood.
Terrified that if I finally believe I’m enough, something will happen that proves I never was.
Sometimes I look at myself and think, “You’re doing so much better.”
Five minutes later I feel like I’m back at the beginning.
Healing is cruel like that.
It lets you touch freedom just enough to notice every chain that’s left.
I act bratty sometimes because it’s easier to look untouchable than admit I desperately want to feel emotionally safe.
I post things that sound fearless because I’m trying to become the woman writing them.
Some days I am.
Some days I’m still just hoping someone sees through the armor without asking me to take it off before I’ve decided they deserve to.
What scares me most isn’t ending up alone.
It’s ending up in another situation where I slowly disappear while convincing myself it’s love.
I don’t want to keep shrinking.
I don’t want to keep explaining why basic respect matters.
I don’t want to keep mistaking survival for devotion.
More than anything…
I want the voice in my own head to become gentler than the voices that taught me to doubt myself.
I want peace that doesn’t have to be earned.
I want love that doesn’t make me negotiate with my own worth.
And if I’m completely honest…
I think I’m closer to that life than I allow myself to believe.
I just don’t know how to stop looking over my shoulder for the version of me that thought suffering was the price of being loved.
