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 ~