From a stranger to her stranger

I waited because I trusted what you said. I respect your time and gods, why wouldn't I? we were in the middle of something that felt good, safe even. We talked about fuckin, doors— you enter and you close it when you leave. I am merely asking you to have the decency to close it when you've come sick of me, which you fail you, you moron.

And no, I don't hate you, I'm annoyed

annoyed by the fact that I was willing to wait.

I waited, dipsht! (Apologies for the unladylike behavior.)

Did I fall for you? I longed for you, I don't know.

Longing and attachment often wear the same cloak.

For a brief moment, you've become my constant. My listener, my quiet refuge and I begin to lean on you. And the heart, being a foolish and devoted creature, mistakes familiarity for depth, and presence for permanence.

I’ll have you know, I enjoyed dancing in the flames with you. I enjoyed being a marionette to your strings, to your design, my lord.

But I did not expect to burn, and no, not the romantic kind of burning.

Somewhere between the laughter, the late-night tales, and flirty xchanges, I realized I do not wish to be JUST LIKE THAT— careless, dancing in fire with a stranger as though it costs nothing.

I want to be intentional. I want to be better. Not for you—no, gods, I am sober enough to know where I stand. But perhaps because of what you revealed to me.

You showed me the kind of man I could want. And in doing so, you made me see the kind of woman I should be, someone who does not offer herself lightly, not even in fleeting moments disguised as harmless play.

And for that, I thank you.

I do not resent you. But I hope I will be your last casualty. I hope you learn to close doors when you feel something no longer serves you. I hope you get the life you've been working so hard for.

still, for fuck's sake, I have waited.

P.S. This is not a love confession—at least, it never quite reached that point.