… unavailable

They said be gentle, that someone was unnecessarily rough and broke their heart. They said be gentle, that their cheeks still glisten with sorrow and grief. They said be gentle, someone abandoned them.

And so I was. I was soft, and tender, and gentle, and a refuge. I stayed and never judged, holding their heart with tenderness when they became vulnerable. I softened my edges and made myself small so that they could shine and know how it felt for someone to always be there. I bled quietly while tending to their wounds. 

But by protecting other’s hearts, I allowed mine to become an option. By standing by others and helping them to find their own strength within, I became too available. I became a pause between heartbreaks. I was a placeholder, a rehearsal, a sanctuary for the bruised.

I was never chosen, I just filled space. I was a temporary home fostering love and care to those with no intention to remain. I was the one that stayed, but not the one they reached for, I was their warmth when they were lonely and nothing else. I was an afterthought while their eyes wandered. I was kept, but not preferred. Held close, but never claimed.

My gentleness expected, my patience assumed, my devotion a convenience, my silence a permission, my kindness a utility, my heart the collateral. 

I poured myself into people without ever asking for reciprocity. That would’ve made my attention and love feel cheap. I exhausted myself to the point where I gave so many pieces of myself away, that I began to disappear. And still they took. 

And every time I offered devotion and love, it was the same. I wasn’t valued or adored, I was fed crumbs and expected to show gratitude. My gentleness and compassion became a source to be mined. I waited for them to make room for me in their life after healing.

I don’t regret loving anyone, but I miss those parts of me that I can’t get back. I can’t do this self-sacrificing shit anymore, it’s not virtue. I won’t stuff down my own needs and give everything to anyone anymore.

Love should not be transactional. Love is a gift, it should be cherished and treasured.

I choose me now. And sometimes it gets lonely. But I would rather be alone than to ever give away what’s left of my heart to another person that’s still auditioning others for the role. 

I am fire and if there is no reverence in someone’s tone or intention, I am simply… unavailable.