The Regret Remix

I stood there in front of a closet full of “someday” and watched it crumble under the weight of “not now.” I  bent myself trying to earn something that should never had a price tag. I gave grace like candy, hoping one day it would be sweet enough to change him. But it did not. Because he was never actually hungry for me—he was starving for my light, and feeding off myshine was just easier than growing his own.

That is not love, it is shadow puppetry.

Naturally, I am grieving more than the clothes – it is the lie you tried to live inside. The lie that if I were just enough—pretty enough, soft enough, strong enough, patient enough—he would become the kind of person who would not leave me crying on a closet floor.

He never could have. Not because I was not enough, but because he was incapable.

I did nothing wrong. I trusted, hoped and offered love. And he built a little shrine to his own emptiness on the altar of my kindness.

I was weeping on the floor because HE TOLD ME I WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH (pick the flavour of why). It was a head-on collision…

But now—NOW—I see it. That crash? It broke the glass, not me. I am crawling out of something dangerous. And I am not alone.