Life is crazy.
Nothing makes sense anymore
maybe it never was meant to.
They say the stars don’t hold truth,
but my birth chart hums like a mirror.
It knows me better than anyone ever did.
My soul came here to listen,
to stop circling the same wound
and call it destiny.
This time,
this life is mine.
I will choose who stands beside me
someone kind,
someone capable of softness.
But maybe love
isn’t the lesson anymore.
I’ve given enough lifetimes
to the altar of almosts.
I’ve bled through every betrayal
and still called it sacred.
No more.
This life is about autonomy,
about self-love so steady
it can’t be mistaken for selfishness.
I am angry,
and my anger is holy.
It asks me why I ever married
a man so hollow,
a heart so untouched by consequence.
Blue keeps failing his lessons.
He mistakes privilege for purpose.
I will not stand in the way of his karma
that pain is not mine to feel.
I will not carry what he refuses to name.
I am learning to unlearn
the myth of family.
Wholeness doesn’t need witnesses.
I am not there yet,
but I will be.
I will fight.
I will win.
I refuse to fail.
That’s the difference between us:
I’m not afraid to face my own darkness.
He isn’t ready
and he never will be.
He won’t look at the blood on his hands.
He stares at me
as if it’s my fault for bleeding,
then leaves me to mop it up alone.
But I can’t heal
by the hands that hurt me.
So I will rescue myself again,
and this time,
it will be the last.
Mark my words.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC
Life is crazy.
Nothing makes sense anymore
maybe it never was meant to.
They say the stars don’t hold truth,
but my birth chart hums like a mirror.
It knows me better than anyone ever did.
My soul came here to listen,
to stop circling the same wound
and call it destiny.
This time,
this life is mine.
I will choose who stands beside me
someone kind,
someone capable of softness.
But maybe love
isn’t the lesson anymore.
I’ve given enough lifetimes
to the altar of almosts.
I’ve bled through every betrayal
and still called it sacred.
No more.
This life is about autonomy,
about self-love so steady
it can’t be mistaken for selfishness.
I am angry,
and my anger is holy.
It asks me why I ever married
a man so hollow,
a heart so untouched by consequence.
Blue keeps failing his lessons.
He mistakes privilege for purpose.
I will not stand in the way of his karma
that pain is not mine to feel.
I will not carry what he refuses to name.
I am learning to unlearn
the myth of family.
Wholeness doesn’t need witnesses.
I am not there yet,
but I will be.
I will fight.
I will win.
I refuse to fail.
That’s the difference between us:
I’m not afraid to face my own darkness.
He isn’t ready
and he never will be.
He won’t look at the blood on his hands.
He stares at me
as if it’s my fault for bleeding,
then leaves me to mop it up alone.
But I can’t heal
by the hands that hurt me.
So I will rescue myself again,
and this time,
it will be the last.
Mark my words.
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