blue hour confession

she tried to be good. tried to fold herself small enough to fit inside someone's safe place. but they made a spectacle of her grief, like a saint gone rogue. she keeps running from the wounds they left, stitching a life from the pieces no one else wanted.

and when he pulled away, it didn't feel like abandonment. it felt like she lost the last war she didn't even want to fight.

so she packed her softness in a suitcase and vanished. reinventing herself like it's the only way to survive. yes, she'll survive. but no one tells you how much it hurts to be the girl who always survives.