You said,
I got you.
Said it with your chest like loyalty was breath—
like your word could build shelter.
You said,
No matter what.
But "no matter" had conditions,
and when it mattered most—
you were nowhere.
I was drowning
in four walls and silence,
in days I couldn't carry,
in nights I begged for a voice
that never came.
I said,
I'm not okay.
You shrugged it off
like my pain was inconvenience,
like my truth was too loud
for your comfort.
You made me feel like a burden
for bleeding in front of you—
but you were the one who said you'd stay.
You promised me presence
then gave me absence,
promised warmth
then turned cold.
And still,
I waited.
Foolish, maybe.
Hopeful, definitely.
Until the echo got louder than your silence
and I heard what you wouldn't say.
That I was never your priority.
But I am mine now.
Because when you left,
I stayed.
When you vanished,
I rose.
When your promises broke,
I built.
So thank you—
not for the hurt,
but for the lesson:
I am the only constant
in my own becoming.