I think I’m done. Or nearly there.
I’m exhausted, by all of this, and by them.
This whole thing has brought everything into focus.

I’m done taking care of everyone and everything else before myself.
I’m done being told who I am,
having my motives dissected,
assumptions laid on me like a second skin I never asked for.

They don’t follow through.
So I won’t keep moving just to hold everything together.
I acted when no one else would.
Took the heat when others disappeared.
There is no blame.
We each are who we are.

When everyone looked lost
when they turned to me,
I told myself, someone had to do it.
I chose peace, even if it meant pieces of me broke away.

I took risks,
for love, for others, for the chance of something better.
And in doing so, I unraveled.
I lost myself.
I became no one.

But they underestimated me.
Especially my strength.
They labeled me, then left me behind.

So I’m walking away.
From their assumptions, their definitions of me.
From the box they tried to fit me in.

My trauma didn’t cause my illness,
but it carved deeper wounds into the ones I already carry.
And now, I’m at a loss.

But I know what I know.
I feel and see things they can’t.
I tried to change things,
mostly alone.

And I’ve learned:
True freedom sometimes means going it alone.

I don’t want to be analyzed, dissected, or explained.
I’ve already been overlooked.
Dismissed.
Cast aside.

They acted like I had nothing to offer.
And I believed them, for a while.
Not anymore.

I will no longer accept someone else’s version of me,
Just because they say it with confidence.

They told me I was wrong.
But it was just what they wanted to believe.

No more.