I’m not usually someone who offers advice but I do have thoughts. This is a rendition of a talk I might give if I were asked, in a sort of poetic way… 

You Didn't Ask...

You remind me of someone.

Not me exactly, but

a version of me
with better instincts.


You’re standing

in that in-between place—

where your chest gets heavy

but your voice stays light

because you haven’t decided

what version of yourself

you’re trying to preserve.

Talking about him

like a song

you used to love

before you learned the lyrics.

It’s easy to stay

with someone who isn’t awful.

Harder to leave

when they’ve only ever

almost made you feel whole.

But here’s the thing about "almost"...

it’s the softest kind of anchor.

Keeps you close to shore, but

don’t forget you were built for oceans.

I know—
 everyone loves 
a love story that lasts.

But no one talks

about the ones that save you

by ending.

You don’t need to become

the caretaker of someone else’s potential.

Your light is not a learning center.

You’re allowed to be the main plot.

Not the subplot.

Not the lesson someone learns

too late.

This isn’t about blame.

Or bitterness.

Or burning bridges like

they were built to test your lungs.

It’s about asking the kind of questions

you’re scared of answering honestly.

Like—

If you met him today,

not with your history,

not with your hope,

but with your heart as it is now—

would you choose him?

And if not...
Would staying

be anything other than

a slow way of saying goodbye?

You’re not lost.

You’re just gathering the courage

to admit you’ve outgrown the map.

It’s not failure.

It’s evolution.
And yes, it will hurt.

It might feel like tearing a chapter

from a book you’ve memorized.

But it is better 
than reading the same paragraph

on a loop,
wondering why the story

never moves forward.

You deserve the kind of love

that doesn’t ask you

to shrink…

just to fit.

And maybe that means walking.

Maybe that means waiting.

But whatever you do,

promise me this:

Choose the kind of life

you’d be proud 
to write poems about.

Even if it means

writing the next one

alone.