I stopped feeling the need to tell my side of the story.

I stopped feeling the need to tell my side of the story. 

I used to believe that if people just knew what really happened, they’d understand. But over time, life pulled me forward, and healing did its quiet work. I outgrew the version of myself that begged to be heard, and instead, I learned to carry peace in silence. Some things aren’t meant to be explained—they’re meant to be survived.

I started noticing things that used to slip past me—who only came around when it was easy, who stayed quiet when I needed them loud. I paid attention, and it changed me. I no longer make space for people who treated me like an option. The way I love and trust has shifted, but not in bitterness—in honesty. 

My table hasn’t lost its warmth, but now, only those who’ve earned it get a seat.