You say it looks like I’m running.
And maybe it does.
Maybe from the outside
it looks reckless
like I burned everything down
just to disappear into the unknown.
But you don’t know
how loud it gets inside a person
when they’ve spent years
pretending they’re okay.
See, I mastered survival young.
Learned how to smile with heavy eyes.
Learned how to love people
while abandoning myself.
Learned how to call it strength
every time I swallowed pain
instead of speaking it.
And everybody claps for the strong girl.
Nobody asks her
if she’s tired.
Nobody asks her
what happened to the little girl
who had to become “strong”
way too soon.
Mine still lives inside me.
Still angry.
Still grieving.
Still trying to understand
why she spent so much of her life
feeling unchosen,
unprotected,
unseen.
And the truth is
I can’t keep asking people to love me
while I’m still at war with myself.
I can’t keep building relationships
from broken places
and calling it healing
just because it feels familiar.
So yeah, I left.
Yeah, I chose me.
Yeah, I walked away
to figure out who I am
without pain making every decision for me.
Not because I stopped loving people.
But because I finally realized
I deserve to love myself too.
And maybe that’s what this really is
not running away,
but returning.
Returning to the woman
I was always supposed to be
before survival became my personality.
I don’t want a perfect life.
I just want peace that stays.
Joy that feels safe.
Love that doesn’t hurt to hold.
I want to wake up one day
and meet a version of myself
that the little girl in me
would finally trust.
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 6:00 PM UTC
You say it looks like I’m running.
And maybe it does.
Maybe from the outside
it looks reckless
like I burned everything down
just to disappear into the unknown.
But you don’t know
how loud it gets inside a person
when they’ve spent years
pretending they’re okay.
See, I mastered survival young.
Learned how to smile with heavy eyes.
Learned how to love people
while abandoning myself.
Learned how to call it strength
every time I swallowed pain
instead of speaking it.
And everybody claps for the strong girl.
Nobody asks her
if she’s tired.
Nobody asks her
what happened to the little girl
who had to become “strong”
way too soon.
Mine still lives inside me.
Still angry.
Still grieving.
Still trying to understand
why she spent so much of her life
feeling unchosen,
unprotected,
unseen.
And the truth is
I can’t keep asking people to love me
while I’m still at war with myself.
I can’t keep building relationships
from broken places
and calling it healing
just because it feels familiar.
So yeah, I left.
Yeah, I chose me.
Yeah, I walked away
to figure out who I am
without pain making every decision for me.
Not because I stopped loving people.
But because I finally realized
I deserve to love myself too.
And maybe that’s what this really is
not running away,
but returning.
Returning to the woman
I was always supposed to be
before survival became my personality.
I don’t want a perfect life.
I just want peace that stays.
Joy that feels safe.
Love that doesn’t hurt to hold.
I want to wake up one day
and meet a version of myself
that the little girl in me
would finally trust.
