I am not an angry woman. I am a woman who has been wounded more times than I ever admitted out loud. There was a time I was soft without fear— open, giving, full of love that poured freely. But when you keep offering your heart to hands that don't know how to hold it, something in you changes. I am not filled with hate. I am exhausted. Exhausted from asking for the bare minimum and calling it "too much." Exhausted from shrinking my needs so others could stay comfortable. Exhausted from holding onte people who never once fought to keep me. I am not who I used to be—and that's not bitterness. That's growth. I have learned that love should not feel like begging. That loyalty should not feel one-sided. That my worth is not negotiable. I am no longer settling for crumbs just because I remember how sweet I used to be. I am still loving. Still capable, Still soft — but now, I am strong enough to protect that softness. And I will never again accept less than I deserve.