It baffles me…
how a man can look at a woman
who refuses to bend herself into shapes
to fit the hollow spaces his emotional unavailability leaves behind,
and call that lack of love.
How does it make sense
that her unwillingness to ADJUST to the disrespect,
to shrink herself for his comfort,
to explain again and again things his heart refuses to learn—
somehow becomes proof
that she doesn’t care?
Since when is love measured by how much pain a woman can absorb in silence?
Since when did endurance become affection,
and self-erasure become devotion?
She doesn’t walk away because she doesn’t love him.
She walks away because she finally remembers how to love herself.
And that is not cruelty.
That is not coldness.
That is clarity.
Because to stay would mean to betray herself—
to offer her softness to someone who only gives her edges.
To pour into someone who keeps showing up empty.
And what he cannot understand is this:
her refusal to tolerate less is not the absence of love for him—
it is the presence of love for herself.
Sick to my stomach that a person can think that way.
