I’m Done Being the One Who Always Stays

There comes a point in life where you stop hoping people will see your worth—and you start demanding it. I’ve reached that point.

I’ve spent too many years being the one who stays. The one who understands without being understood. The one who listens even when no one asks how I’m doing. The one who forgives not once, not twice, but every time—because I believed in the good, even when it was buried under excuses and silence.

But you know what that does to a person? It wears them down. It makes them question if love is supposed to feel like endurance. Like sacrifice. Like slowly fading away just to keep someone else lit.

And I’m done with that version of love.

I’m done being the sanctuary people run to when their world falls apart—only to leave me the moment they’re whole again. I’m not a pit stop for people in transition. I’m not here to teach you how to love so you can give it to someone else.

I’ve earned my scars. I’ve cried alone in rooms full of people. I’ve smiled while breaking inside. And still, I stayed. Still, I gave more. Still, I hoped.

But not anymore.

Now, I want someone who fights for me even when I’m not easy to love. Someone who doesn’t walk away when things get complicated, when I shut down, when I need space but still want to be held. Someone who looks at my chaos and says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I want to be someone’s choice—not their obligation. I want to be loved with intention, not just convenience. Not because I’m always available, always kind, always forgiving—but because I’m me. All of me. Loud, emotional, deep, and real.

I’m tired of being romanticized in memory but never prioritized in reality. I’m not here to be romantic background noise in someone else’s highlight reel.

I want to be loved like I matter now, not just when it’s too late.

I want a love that shows up. Not a love that disappears when it’s not convenient. Not a love that gaslights me into believing I’m “too much” for wanting to be chosen, for wanting reassurance, for needing more.

I’ve spent enough time being someone’s peace while I was silently falling apart. I want someone who sees the cracks in me and still chooses to stay—not because I’m perfect, but because I’m worth it.

I want someone who doesn’t just need me… but wants me—loudly, fiercely, without hesitation.

And if that’s too much for this world, then let it be. I’ll be my own peace. I’ll be my own fight. But I refuse to shrink, to settle, or to wait quietly to be chosen like I’m some backup plan.

I know my worth now.

And I’m done handing it over to those who don’t know what to do with it.