24/07/2025
I usually give people more chances than they deserve, but once I'm done, I'm done.
I'm the type of person who sees the good in others, even when it's buried under layers of flaws, mistakes, and bad decisions. I believe in forgiveness, in second chances—sometimes even third or fourth—because I know that life is messy and humans are imperfect. I stick around longer than I should, hoping that things will get better, believing that people can grow if given the space and grace to do so. I’ll excuse behavior that hurts me because I convince myself there’s still potential, that maybe they didn’t mean it, or that maybe I’m being too harsh.
But here’s what most people don’t understand: my patience isn't weakness. My forgiveness isn’t blind. I see everything—I just choose to give people time to show me they’re better than their worst moments. But when that pattern of disrespect, betrayal, or emotional neglect continues, when I realize I’m the only one fighting for the relationship—whether it’s a friendship, family bond, or romantic connection—I start to pull away. Quietly. Gradually. And when I finally make that decision to walk away, it’s final.
There’s no yelling. No explanation. Just a clean break. Because by the time I get to that point, I’ve already cried, questioned myself, blamed myself, tried again, and stayed longer than I should have. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. I’m just done. Done allowing people to drain me. Done hoping for change that never comes. Done sacrificing my own peace and self-worth to hold space for people who never valued me in the first place.
I don’t shut the door out of hate—I do it out of love. Love for myself. Love for my sanity. Love for the person I’m becoming—the one who no longer accepts less than she deserves. Once I’m done, I don’t go back. Not because I didn’t care. But because I cared too much, for too long.