People look at me and see the glitter. They see the awards, the achievements, the smile that photographs well. They say they are proud of me. They say I am shining. But they never see the fire that burned behind the glow. They do not know that while they praised the light around me, I was learning to crawl out of a darkness shaped like a man.
Because while the world saw a woman rising, I was the same woman who begged you to talk things through. I begged even though begging felt like wearing shoes two sizes too small. It hurt, it squeezed, but I kept walking because I believed in seeing things through. You believed in disappearing the moment the conversation required honesty.
And when I finally chose myself for the first time, you acted like I owed you an apology. You said, "I can give you a second chance. I have been given second chances before." As if choosing myself was a mistake I needed to correct. As if I was returning to a judge for approval.
But the truth is that phone call I made was not a return. It was a release. The last thread snapping. My heart letting go even while my voice still trembled. Sometimes liberation comes disguised as longing. Sometimes the doorway out looks like a second attempt.
The devil knew what he was doing because he handed me a clear view of who you truly were. You wanted to play games with my heart. You wanted to see if I would dance to your tune again. And for once, I did not dance. I watched. I learned. I understood the battlefield I had been sleeping on.
There was a time loving you made me feel like a dirty white cloth used to wipe muddy boots. A cloth that had seen all the mess and held all the dirt yet never got rinsed clean. I looked at myself and said, "You do not belong here. You are not built to be thrown on the floor." Because I am not less than. I never was. You were simply too small to hold a woman of my size, spirit, and roar.
You got used to the sweetness. The softness. The version of me that folded herself in half simply to make you feel whole. Now suddenly you call. You text. You respond quickly. You play along at the sound of my voice because you feel the shift. You feel me placing you exactly where you belong, right at the edge of my patience, right at the fingertips of my memory. This is my redemption. This is me reclaiming the part of myself I once handed to you like a gift you never deserved.
I sit quietly in the peace of my mind now. From long paragraphs explaining my heart to simply pulling up my panties with pride, reminding myself you never owned a single thread on my body or soul. You taught me lessons, not love. You forced me to recognise that my reflection holds more worth than the validation you dangled in front of me.
I once asked you, softly, almost too softly, "Do you ever feel less than when you stand next to me?"
You hesitated, and the silence told me the truth I needed.
You have only a few days before I erase you completely. You brought nothing but the same shit you came from, and I am done holding things that stain.
I choose myself now.
I choose gold.
My own gold.