I thought I had been hurt before,
but no one has ever left a wound quite as sour as the one you carved into me.
I truly believed we were more than this,
more than silence, more than empty promises, more than the slow ache of being forgotten.
But you left me stranded in a place where love should have held me,
a place where effort should have met effort,
a place where I should have mattered.
Most days, I don't even count as a choice to you.
I'm out of your thoughts,
and even more forgotten in your heart.
And as painful as that truth is,
it forced me to wake up
to finally see you for who you truly are,
not for who I kept hoping you'd become.
Because deep down,
I know I am worth more than the crumbs you call affection.
I deserve more than the bare minimum you keep telling me to appreciate.
I deserve presence, intention, love that doesn't disappear when it gets tired of trying.
So I'm leaving.
Not out of anger,
not out of spite,
but out of love,
love for myself.
Because now I know
that I can love myself better
than you ever tried to.
And that truth,
as heartbreaking as it is,
is also the beginning of my freedom.