A PUPPET OF MY OWN SILENCE
Thereβs a kind of regret that lives in the quiet momentsβthe ones where I look back and realize how many times I let people pull the strings, and I just moved. Not because I wanted to. Not because I agreed. But because I was afraid. Afraid theyβd get angry. Afraid Iβd disappoint them. Afraid Iβd lose them. So I said yesβagain and again. To tasks that drained me. To demands that pushed meβ¦
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