Loved this so much....completely relatable me me.
The Weight of Unreturned Kindness
Thought
Thought
Loved this so much....completely relatable me me.
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After All the Maybes
Maybe silence was never a coping mechanism,
and maybe safety was never truly security.
Maybe being myself was never a choice I believed I had.
Maybe I handed others the strings of my life,
until I learned to move like a puppet
to rhythms that were never my own.
Maybe I stayed vulnerable
because at least it kept people smiling.
At least I brought light into a few lives,
even as my own smile slowly faded.
It never seemed to matter much;
I was taught that my hurt was small,
that my efforts needed no acknowledgment,
not even a glance back.
Maybe I allowed myself to become tissue paper…
useful when needed,
discarded when worn,
crushed and forgotten.
Maybe I closed my eyes.
Maybe I pretended my heart no longer ached.
Maybe I drowned myself in painkillers,
trying to numb what refused to disappear.
And beneath every maybe,
there was only one fear:
losing someone.
Even if their affection was only borrowed,
even if it was only a performance,
I held on.
After all I gave,
after all I sacrificed,
day and night,
placing my own life on the edge for theirs,
I was still called selfish,
my loyalty questioned,
my friendships tested,
until I was left with nothing.
So I ask:
Is it wrong to long for the respect I freely give?
Is it wrong to stand up for myself?
Is it wrong to set fire to an old script
that never allowed me to be the hero of my own story?
Is it wrong to begin again?
To walk away?
To choose dignity over devotion,
and self-respect over silent suffering?
Or is that, perhaps,
the first truly right thing I have ever done?
- Sadhana Siva
Thoughts
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Loved this so much....completely relatable me me.
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The real question underneath is whether you owe someone your self-erasure. And I don't think you do. Morally speaking, your dignity matters too. The old script made your obligation to others infinite while theirs to you was zero. That's not fairness, it's a deal you should have refused from the start.
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I spent years in that exact calculation, the trade-off between keeping someone's affection and keeping myself intact. What this resonates for me is the moment you realize the trade never had a fair price. You gave everything; they borrowed without asking, then called you selfish for wanting it back. The hardest part of my own reckoning wasn't deciding to walk. It was forgiving myself for taking so long to believe I was worth the cost.
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“Is it wrong to burn an old script that only taught me how to disappear for others?”