Way Back When

A year ago, I swallowed my words

like bitter pills with no water,

let silence bruise my throat

because I thought being quiet

meant being loved.

A year ago, I bent myself smaller,

folded my needs into neat corners,

afraid that taking up space

would make me disposable.

I mistook endurance for loyalty

and pain for proof that I cared enough.

I stayed when I should have walked,

apologized when I wasn’t wrong,

laughed through the sting

of being dismissed, overlooked,

spoken over like my voice

was optional background noise.

Back then, I believed respect

was something you earned

by suffering quietly,

by being easy,

by never asking for too much

even when “too much”

was simply being seen.

But time has teeth.

It chews through illusions,

gnaws at the lies we tell ourselves

just to survive.

And now

now I speak.

Not perfectly,

not without trembling,

but with truth burning behind my ribs

like it’s tired of being caged.

Now I say what hurts.

Now I name what’s unfair.

Now I refuse to translate my worth

into something more convenient

for others to digest.

I no longer confuse love

with neglect,

or friendship

with one-sided effort.

I have learned that respect

is not raised voices or empty apologies,

not promises that rot with time,

not affection given only when I’m useful.

Respect is consistency.

It’s listening without waiting to interrupt.

It’s accountability without excuses.

It’s choosing me

even when it’s inconvenient.

And if I don’t receive that

I don’t beg anymore.

I don’t shrink.

I don’t chase the bare minimum

like it’s a reward.

I walk.

Because the me of today

knows her boundaries

are not walls

they are doors with locks,

and not everyone deserves the key.

The me of today understands

that relationships should feel safe,

friendships should feel mutual,

and love should never require

the erasure of self.

I am no longer the version of me

who stays silent to keep the peace

when the war is being fought

inside my chest.

I am the version who chooses herself,

even when her voice shakes,

even when her honesty costs her people,

even when walking away hurts.

A year changed me.

Pain taught me.

Loss sharpened me.

And I will not apologize

for the woman I became

to survive what nearly broke me.

I deserve respect

not because I demand it,

but because I finally believe

I always did