Yesterday I lit a match with "She's Not Ugly. She's Just Tired of Your Fucking Bullshit." Today I flip the mirror. Because love doesn't survive on blame. And truth doesn't only travel in one direction. Yes, some women are fading from emotional neglect. But some men? They're disappearing too.
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I no longer want another ex, I no longer want to be thinking whether they want me or not, I want a relationship with stability, with tranquility, with trust, where we can move forward together, where we can grow as a couple.
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She deserved to be loved in the kind of way that made her feel safe, valued, and understood, because throughout her life she had given so much of herself to others without ever asking for much in return.
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Behind every girl who says “Sorry” after every little thing, says “Please don’t be mad at me,” or flinches at the slightest movement…
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🌙 In my silence I closed doors that I will hardly reopen. Not because of pride. Not because of the cold. Not because he stopped feeling. I closed them out of respect for myself.
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Forget the sweet messages for a second. Forget the late-night talks. Forget the friendly hugs, the soft smiles, and the excuses that keep you waiting. Attraction is not confusing.
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❗️Don’t blame people for how they react to your actions. You can’t hurt someone, lie to them, disrespect them, or break their trust and then expect them to stay calm like nothing happened. Sometimes people change because of the pain you caused them. Their silence, anger, distance, or sadness didn’t appear out of nowhere — it came from feeling hurt, disappointed, and emotionally exhausted.
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After so many disappointments, one learns to live with a heart a little more protected. Not closed... but yes more prudent, as if after certain wounds you have erected small walls without realizing, not to stop feeling, but to survive all that one day hurt too much.
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"Some women enter life already being hunted by something no one else can see. Before they have language for fear, fear has already entered them, settled into the body, and begun shaping the way they breathe, the way they listen, the way they brace for impact. They do not drift into womanhood through innocence or ease.
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Women are reciprocators not initiators. You lead, she follows. You put effort, she returns it. You make her feel good, she mirrors it. That's the only way it works.
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Sometimes it leaves confusion. Sometimes it leaves silence. Sometimes it leaves a person slowly questioning their own worth, their own voice, their own reality, until they no longer recognize the light they once carried so naturally within themselves.
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A domestic worker left leftover food to three neighborhood kids. Years later, they returned to their door... and one was wearing a white robe. My hands were shaking while trying to open a pot of medicine. At age seventy-two, even opening a bottle seemed like an Olympic competition. Arthritis had defeated me and the doctor at the public hospital had already told me I needed urgent treatment.
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