Access is Not Love

You were the first to say hello. You chose me like a curiosity, turned the light on, watched me soften under it. You invited me in, and called it kindness as if doors don't exist to be shut. I didn't know affection could be a leash. I didn't know attention could be currency. Tell me- were your hands steady when you pulled the strings? Did it feel powerful to watch me adjust myself into something smaller, quieter, easier to leave? You called it love. I call it training. You were the first to say hello, and the first to decide I was disposable. You didn't hesitate. You didn't look back. You just walked away like endings don't echo in the people left behind. Did it satisfy you- the moment my voice went still? When my questions learned not to form? When silence did the work you were too careful to finish yourself? Don't worry. I am no longer waiting for your approval to exist. I am relearning how to stand without shrinking, how to be whole without being chosen. I will love myself with the precision you lacked. With boundaries sharp enough to keep people like you from mistaking access for entitlement. You opened the door thinking I'd stay where you left me. But I learned something colder than love, stronger than hope- I learned how to close it without regret.