Written by P.chez

For so long, I held their words like scripture, let their judgment shape my edges,

let their judgment shape my edges, let their approval decide my worth.

I twisted myself into someone smaller, crafted myself into someone easier to

accept and understand— but never easier to love. It’s sad to know the real me

isn’t who they wanted to love. They only loved the small parts of me, like picking pretty

vibrant flowers from a garden and trampling over what’s left.

I always swallowed my anger, let it settle in my bones and soul,

mistook the weight for strength. But resentment is a dark cage that only

locks from the inside, and I was the one holding the key.

So I let it all go.

Not because they deserved forgiveness— no they deserved my resentment,

and not because they acknowledged the damage they did, but because

I refused to be their creation any longer.

I am not what they made me out to be. I am not some bomb waiting

to explode in anger at the smallest trigger. I am not some robot or alien

that lacks feeling just because I don’t feel the way they want me to.

I am not mean just because I defied their unprompted expectations.

Those things are not me at all. And I do not need their permission to be me,

to take up space as I am, to be whole and proud of myself.

I have nothing left to prove, nothing left to carry but my own

peace and happiness— and that is more than enough.