You came into my life quietly.
At first, you felt like comfort —
a soft blur around the edges of things I didn’t want to feel.
You promised relief.
You delivered destruction.
But still… I don’t hate you.
You were a doorway to parts of myself I hadn’t healed yet.
You showed me the cracks in my foundation.
You mirrored the emptiness I didn’t know how to fill.
I chased you because I didn’t know how to stay with myself.
I chose you because I didn’t know what choosing myself felt like.
And when you finally broke me,
you also broke me open.
I’m not angry that you existed.
I’m grateful that I left you.
You no longer define me.
You no longer soothe me.
You no longer own even a corner of my life.
I took my power back.
I took my breath back.
I took me back.
You will always be a chapter in my story —
but you are not the ending.