⋆｡‧˚ʚ Ily ɞ˚‧｡⋆

I can be grateful for everything that I received but at the same time feeling like it never was enough

I can love the people who gave birth to me but still carry wounds inside me that no one ever wanted to see.

I can fell nostalgic while I’m choosing not to return, because some habits can hurt even if they smell like home

I could have forgiven them, but I chose not to repeat history.

I can love my family, but not consider "home" a safe place.

I can be happy with what they have transmitted to me, but I cannot bear the weight of the expectation they have created for me.

I can love the one who gave me everything, but knowing that love alone (especially from just one parent) is not enough to keep me close.

You told me you weren't ready. Not for a relationship, not for something serious, not for someone like me.

But you never left.

You didn't disappear. You stayed just close enough to confuse me.

To keep me wondering.

You'd check in. Send late-night messages. Searched me when you were lonely. Say things that felt almost real.And then pull away the moment I believed you.

You didn't want to love me.But you didn't want me to stop loving you, either.

So you kept me in the in-between. Not yours. But not free, either.

And I stayed.

Because when you're starving, even crumbs feel like a meal.

Because I thought if I loved you enough, you'd finally be ready.

For us.

For real.

But the truth? You were never planning to meet me in the middle.

You just liked being chased.

You liked the safety of being wanted without the risk of having to give anything back.

And maybe you didn't lie. Not directly.

But you knew. You knew exactly what you were doing. 

And what hurts most? 

i love thisssss very baddie of you 💅

Love you girlies ❤️

pay for my mother's psychological sessions