my big one
There was a time I believed I needed to tell my side of the story. That healing required explanation. That if people just understood everything I had endured, how my efforts were met with betrayal, then maybe I’d feel more at peace. Maybe I’d feel seen. I’ve been quiet for so long that silence started to feel like safety. I bit my tongue more times than I can count out of love, out of loyalty. Out of some misplaced belief that being the bigger person meant shrinking myself down to nothing. But I deserve the relief of my own honesty. I’ve taken time to reflect before writing this. I wanted to be sure that what I say here comes from clarity, not emotion. Not reaction. I’ve outgrown the urge to be understood by others. To me, peace comes from understanding myself. I loved someone who hurt me. Quietly, non-explosive. You chipped away at my trust with one inferior betrayal. I was lied to my face. I used to think of you as someone who would never hurt me that way. And I made it cl...