Unsaid Things vol 3

“Where My Silence Finally Chose Me.”
There are things I never said.
Not because I didn’t have the words…
But because I saw where words went when I spoke them.
Some fell on distracted ears.
Some got reframed as complaints.
Some came back dressed up as my fault.
So I did something quieter than arguing.
I stopped offering them.
Vol. 3 isn’t angry.
Anger burns fast — this is slower than that.
This is the stage where realisation sits down beside you… not loud, just certain.
Where you recognise the difference between being loved… and being leaned on.
Where you see how often you showed up full —
And how often you were met half.
Half listening.
Half present.
Half emotionally available.
And love cannot breathe properly in halves.
There’s a grief in this volume… but it isn’t dramatic.
It’s the grief of acceptance.
Of understanding that some connections survive on your emotional generosity… more than mutual nourishment.
That you were pouring… consistently…
Into a cup that rarely tilted back toward you.
Not because you weren’t worthy of it —
But because they didn’t pour that way.
And that distinction matters.
So something inside me shifted.
Not overnight.
Not theatrically.
Just gradually… like withdrawing emotional investments from accounts that stopped accruing interest.
I spoke less.
Explained less.
Expected less.
Not out of spite…
Out of self-preservation.
Because every time I abandoned my own emotional needs to keep the peace…
I felt myself thinning.
Vol. 3 is the sound of that thinning stopping.
The moment my silence changed allegiance.
No longer protecting the connection…
But protecting me.
It sounds like rain on windows while I sit in stillness.
Like switching off the radio when the song no longer holds me.
Like declining conversations that circle but never land.
Like choosing rest over explanation.
It sounds like a woman coming back home to herself… without announcement.
I didn’t stop loving overnight.
Love doesn’t evacuate on command.
But I stopped negotiating my worth for emotional crumbs.
Stopped shrinking my needs to appear “low maintenance.”
Stopped translating my feelings into softer language so they’d be easier to digest.
Because grown love doesn’t require emotional dilution to survive.
So here, in Vol. 3…
My silence isn’t empty.
It’s full of understanding.
Full of boundaries forming quietly.
Full of the realisation that peace sometimes asks you to step back…
Not because you don’t care…
But because you finally care about yourself equally. Link Here Vivian Green Gotta Go Gotta Leave

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