(Very close mic, almost spoken. Slow. Breath between lines.)

⸻

I didn’t come in guarded…

I didn’t come in sharp.

I came in like a daughter—

with both hands open

and my whole heart forward

like that was something safe to do.

⸻

I thought

if you loved someone

you were gentle with what they loved.

I thought

that was just… understood.

⸻

I didn’t know

people could smile

and keep something behind their teeth.

I didn’t know

you could sit at a table

and be the only one

who didn’t know

what was really being said.

⸻

I kept trying to be better.

quieter.

softer.

more right.

like there was some version of me

that would finally be… acceptable.

⸻

but it didn’t matter

what I fixed

or what I gave

there was always something

already decided about me

that I couldn’t reach.

⸻

and the hardest part—

wasn’t that you didn’t love me.

it was realizing

you didn’t even care

that I knew.

⸻

I would’ve changed

if I thought it was real.

I would’ve listened

if I thought it was honest.

I would’ve stayed small

if I thought it meant

we could be safe together.

⸻

but I was standing

in something

that looked like family

and felt like

I was being studied

instead of held.

⸻

and I didn’t know

how to name that

back then.

⸻

I just knew

I was getting quieter

and more afraid

and somehow

still trying

to be kind.

⸻

I didn’t know

people could enjoy

watching someone break.

I didn’t know

that could feel like power

to someone else.

⸻

and I wish—

I wish

I could go back

to the version of me

who believed

that love was simple

and tell her

⸻

“you’re not wrong…

you’re just not safe here.”

⸻

(long pause)

⸻

I didn’t come in broken.

I became careful

because I had to.

⸻

but I’m not there anymore.

and I’m not asking

to be understood

by people

who never wanted to understand me.

⸻

I just…

I just wanted

to be loved

like I was loving you.