I keep loading chances into chambers that already know my name. Spin the cylinder anyway because hope has always been louder than fear. I place my heart on the table, felt still warm from the last loss, still beating like it doesn’t remember how close it came to stopping. Click. Another promise survives. I smile like I didn’t flinch. Click. Another red flag dressed as love. I tell myself, this time feels different. I’ve mastered the art of pretending that odds don’t apply to me, that faith alone can outshoot history, that my heart isn’t already scarred metal. But every pull leaves a bruise. Every near miss teaches my pulse how to brace for impact. Even silence sounds like a gunshot now. They say love is a risk but nobody warns you how addictive the adrenaline becomes when pain feels familiar. Still, I sit at the table. Not because I’m reckless but because part of me believes one chamber might finally hold peace. And maybe the bravest thing is knowing the danger,feeling the weight of the weapon,and one day choosing to set my heart down before it learns another way to bleed. ~butterfly ~

I don’t chase. Not a man. Not a feeling. Not a friendship that only remembers me when it’s empty. I don’t fight to be loved,to be chosen, to be treated right because anything that’s real doesn’t need to be wrestled into staying. I’ve been through too much. Too many nights questioning myself. Too many times replaying conversations, wondering how I became optional to people I made a priority. Too many lessons dressed up as love, teaching me the same pain with a different face. I’m not allowing that cycle anymore. Not again.Not in a new body,with the same behavior and a different excuse. I had to stop no distractions,no blame, no pretending. I stood in front of the mirror and faced the one person I kept abandoning. And as I looked at myself tired but still standing,scarred but still soft I didn’t criticize. I admired. I respected the woman who survived what she never deserved and still didn’t turn cold. And I said to myself,out loud, so it would finally stick you know what? I don’t want to be nobody else. I’m done shrinking,done reshaping my heart to fit into spaces that were never meant for me. So now if somebody can’t love me correctly, that’s on them. I’m not explaining my worth,not proving my loyalty,not auditioning for a role I was already born to play. I choose peace over potential. Consistency over promises. Respect over attachment. I don’t chase.I don’t fight. I don’t beg to be seen. I stand still now and what’s meant for me will meet me there. ~butterfly ~

The version of me that tolerated late replies,mixed signals,love that came with conditions she’s gone. She used to make excuses for disrespect, translate silence into hope,call bare minimum effort because she wanted to believe people meant well. She tolerated being misunderstood, being last,being almost chosen. She stayed quiet to keep peace and called it maturity while it slowly hollowed her out. That version of me explained herself too much,forgave too fast, and held space for people who never held her the same. She thought loyalty meant endurance. She thought love was patience even when it hurt. She thought staying was strength until staying started to feel like self betrayal. The version of me that tolerated confusion was tired of clarity. The version of me that tolerated inconsistency was starving for stability. The version of me that tolerated disrespect was afraid of walking away. But I met her in the mirror one day eyes heavy,spirit bruised, heart still beating despite everything. And I thanked her.For surviving. For carrying what she didn’t deserve. For loving when she didn’t feel safe. Then I let her go. Because this version she doesn’t tolerate. She chooses.She requires. She walks away the first time she feels small. She doesn’t beg.She doesn’t chase. She doesn’t stay where love has to be negotiated. You’ll miss the version of me that tolerated you. Because this one? She knows better And she’s not coming back. ~butterfly ~

She’s not crazy she learned how to survive chaos that lived where love was supposed to be. Her mind bent only to protect her heart from breaking again. She’s not stupid she trusted words wrapped in kindness, hands that promised safety,and learned too late how manipulation wears a gentle face. She doesn’t have an attitude she has boundaries now walls built from lessons that once cut her open. Her silence is not disrespect it’s self defense. She’s not bitter she’s done swallowing lies to keep others comfortable. The truth tastes sharp when you’ve been forced to choke on it. She’s not stuck in the past the past still visits her body, echoes in her breath, lingers in places memory never left. Trauma doesn’t fade on command. She’s not weak she believed in love,in people,in promises. Trust is not weakness it’s courage before it’s broken. She’s not giving up she’s tending wounds no one saw, learning how to love herself without apology. Healing looks quiet, messy, slow but it is still strength. So if she seems guarded, if she speaks carefully, if she walks away sooner than before know this She didn’t change. She rose. ~butterfly ~

I am not lazy I am buffering. My soul has too many tabs open, each one holding a moment I wasn’t ready to feel yet. I sit still, not because I’m empty, but because everything arrived at once. Grief knocked, healing followed, memories barged in without warning and my heart said, one at a time, please. Waiting looks quiet from the outside. Inside, it’s a storm pausing mid breath, a tear held hostage behind the eyes, a thought circling until it finds language. I am learning that processing is not weakness or delay it is courage taking off its armor to examine the wounds honestly. So if I seem distant,know this I am sitting with myself, sorting what broke, deciding what stays,and gently returning what was never mine. I will move again just not before I understand what this moment asked me to become. ~butterfly ~