Time…
Funny thing about time.
People say it heals all wounds,
but nobody talks about the hours spent bleeding while the clock keeps moving.
Nobody talks about the years lost
trying to convince someone to see what they refuse to see.
Nobody talks about the exhaustion
of explaining your pain
to a person who only hears criticism.
I know those hours.
I wore them.
Like chains around my ankles.
Like sandbags tied to my soul.
Like a second heartbeat made entirely of stress.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Every second spent defending myself against accusations I never earned.
Every minute spent trying to prove my intentions.
Every hour spent wondering how reality became a courtroom
and I was always the defendant.
Time kept moving.
And so did I.
Just not forward.
I was running on a treadmill built from hope.
Believing that if I loved harder,
explained better,
stayed calmer,
sacrificed more,
then maybe…
Maybe one day she’d understand.
Maybe one day she’d look into the mirror
and finally meet the truth standing there.
But time taught me something.
A lesson I fought for years.
You cannot force a mirror
to reflect what someone refuses to look at.
You cannot drag awareness
into a room where denial has locked every door.
You cannot rescue someone
who is drowning in their own reflection
while insisting they’re swimming.
And the hardest truth?
Their refusal to see themselves
does not require me
to lose myself.
For years,
I confused endurance with love.
I thought suffering was proof of commitment.
I thought staying wounded
was somehow noble.
I thought carrying every emotional burden
made me strong.
But strength isn’t measured
by how much pain you can survive.
Strength is measured
by the moment you decide
you no longer need to.
So today…
I choose peace.
Not because I’m weak.
Because I’m tired of being strong for the wrong reasons.
I choose peace.
Not because I stopped caring.
Because I finally started caring about myself too.
I choose peace.
Because every battle doesn’t deserve a soldier.
Every argument doesn’t deserve a response.
Every accusation doesn’t deserve a defense.
And every storm doesn’t deserve my shelter.
Time taught me that.
The clock became my teacher.
Every tick whispered:
“Protect your energy.”
Every tock answered:
“Protect your peace.”
Protect your peace.
Protect your peace.
Protect your peace.
I used to think peace was something you found.
Now I know peace is something you choose.
It is choosing silence over proving a point.
It is choosing boundaries over guilt.
It is choosing rest over chaos.
It is choosing healing
even when the people who hurt you
call it abandonment.
Because healing was never abandonment.
Healing is survival.
Healing is self-respect.
Healing is looking at your scars
and deciding they will not become your identity.
And to anyone standing where I once stood…
To anyone losing themselves
trying to save someone who refuses accountability…
