Lashawn🎀 :
A Burial in Every Sentence I Bleed. knew who you were the moment we met. Something about you felt familiar, even before I understood why. I thought maybe I could change you, that if I loved you enough, you’d stay. But you didn’t. You stayed the same—I was the one who changed. You hurt me, slowly. I started losing parts of myself. I tried to be less, to not take up too much space, to be enough. And it left me drained. I gave more than I had hoping you'd choose me, but you didn’t. I started writing—not to hold on, but to let go. It helped me figure out who I was again. Even now, I’m still trying to feel whole. I’m scared to love again. Scared to open up. Scared to hope. Because what happened with you taught me to expect pain, even from people who seem kind. There's someone new now. He’s good to me. But instead of feeling safe, I feel stuck. I want to let him in, but the fear is louder. It’s hard knowing I wasn’t really in love with you, but you still broke my heart like I was. The truth is, when I left you, I got my freedom back—I just didn’t realize it at the time. I’ve spent so long trying to find myself in other people, when I should’ve remembered I was mine first. So that’s what I’m doing now. Choosing me. Loving myself in ways you never could. I know healing takes time. I know the fear might not go away all at once. But I’m learning that being afraid and still choosing to try is strength. You changed me, but not in the way I hoped. You reminded me how easy it is to lose myself—and how important it is to never let that happen again. This isn’t bitterness. It’s just clarity. I’m not writing this for you. I’m writing it for me. For the version of me who forgot her worth. For who I’m becoming. For the love I’m still learning to give myself. And maybe, one day, for the kind of love I’ll be ready to let in again.
2025-05-29 17:15:05