Writers 
Maybe in that universe, I don’t beg to stay.
I don’t dim my soul to make you comfortable.
I don’t fold myself into smaller shapes
just so you won’t feel crowded by me.
I’m not the one who loved too much.
I’m the one who loved exactly right,
and you were the one who couldn’t meet it.
I don’t starve for your loyalty.
I don’t crave your touch like it’s oxygen.
I eat. I sleep. I wake up whole.
In that universe, I never drowned in your absence.
When you left the room, the air stayed full.
When you went quiet, I didn’t fill the silence with panic.
I let it be quiet.
I never questioned my worth in your indifference.
Your coldness wasn’t a mirror.
It was just you.
And I learned the difference early.
I never learned how to fake being fine.
I didn’t have to.
Because you didn’t give me reasons not to be.
Your betrayal doesn’t replay in the back of my mind
because it never happened.
There, I keep my softness and my spine.
I love without losing myself.
I leave before I have to be left.
I choose me first, and it doesn’t feel selfish.
It feels like survival.
That version of me is brave.
She doesn’t wait. She doesn’t hope.
She walks away with her head up
and doesn’t look back to see if you’re watching.