#final straw

BOTH OVERBLOT IDIA AND VIL ARE COMING IN MARCH??!????

TWST WTF?!?!

WHY?!?!?

Hidden Straw

I hid my final straw among the flowers, and the cat looked for it relentlessly.

He tore up each box, regardless of the magical objects they might hold. He crashed into stacks of books until they fell over and blew out spells, ghosts, potential doom. He opened the oven and crumbled my bakes, shredded my boots, slashed through my broom’s brakes. He hopped onto a bench where I’d placed the beaker in which I’d brewed myself a boost, and beat it so it tipped onto the carpet. He batted at flowers floating in a test tube, an experiment that had yet to reveal its goal and now never would. The cat knew he was getting close to the end of his quest, and he crashed and burst and boomed into every plate that I had kept spinning.

I wasn’t angry with him, even if I stayed close to the last straw throughout all of this—but my patience kept stretching, no matter how thin. The boxes, the books, the bakes, the boots, the broom, the brew, and the blooms were all out there because I hadn’t finished the tasks they represented. Once I did, the cat would no longer be able to get to these objects, and peace would return to my brain.

—

[Image description: The photo looks down on a small, brown side table with a transparent glass vase of white flowers, a tealight in a round wooden holder, a small framed flower painting, a small transparent glass bottle with purple flowers, a gold-coloured dish in the shape of a ginkgo leaf, a black cylindrical candleholder with a circular pattern of holes letting out the light from the sides, a piece of cross-stitch embroidery standing up in an embroidery ring and depicting an orange cat reaching out to a steaming purple cup on top of a stack of books, and a transparent cat out of metal wire that holds a test tube filled with daffodils, so that they form a flower crown for the cat.]

—

You stayed with her while she cried for hours.

You left my tears unattended for months.

You let her fight for you.

You never gave me that chance.

You just discarded me like I was nothing worth saving.

You gave her chances to fix what you two had.

You stayed to work it out.

You never even told me you were even hurting.

Behind the scenes..

Every time you said you were “leaving her” for us,

I wrote you a handwritten letter.

They all went unread.

Every time you gave me false hope,

I began planning our future again,

dates, tiny homes, the kind of life we used to dream about.

You never dreamed of us again.

You left me with the kids, the dogs, the bills, the debt,

the cleaning, the projects.

You just walked away,

and I picked up everything you dropped while bleeding through my chest.

You never knew how many times I thought about driving off the road.

Or the depressions so deep I had to call someone

just to stay on the phone with me until the darkness passed.

You never knew how long I protected your image

so if you came home,

no one would think less of you.

Meanwhile, you shamed me behind my back for months.

You never knew that every “I love you” meant something. Not some manipulation, but real.

Every “I miss you” mattered, was felt.

But from your lips,

those words were just keys to keep me trapped a little longer.

You never knew how many nights I held my breath,

waiting for your text, your call,

your attention.

Falling asleep with my phone in my hand, waking up all hours of the night to check it.

Always waiting to slip into the cracks of your new life when she wasn’t around.

You never knew how many conversations I had with you in my car

because you were too avoidant to hear my heart out loud.

You never knew how much time, energy, and devotion

I poured into your second, third, fourth, and fifth chances

only to be emotionally left again.

You never knew how empty I felt

when the layers of lies finally unraveled.

How defeated you made me feel

like every word you ever said was a script you never meant.

You never knew how many nights I calmed my nervous system

with alcohol and pills.

You never knew how many meals I skipped

because my anxiety wouldn’t let me keep anything down.

You never knew I scoured Spotify for songs for you,

songs you never listened to.

You never knew the movie I sent you

kept me crying for days.

Still unwatched.

You never knew I sent you hundreds of reels

not to guilt you,

but to heal you.

To help you hear what I could never get you to sit still for.

You never knew I always saw the best in you

even when you gave me your worst.

Worse than anyone you’ve ever known.

I would have rather you ghosted me completely

than force me to grow to hate the liar I loved so deeply.

You never knew how tightly I held onto loving you,

Simone Anderson.

But it’s time.

I’m done.

You’re not the person you used to be.

Albums I listened to in 2025