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I keep replaying my moments with you…
and that’s the part that unsettles me the most.

Because when I go back—
when I really sit with it—
I’m not confused anymore…
I’m shocked.

Shocked at how real you felt in one moment…
and how replaceable I clearly was in the next.

One minute, you were present.
Intentional.
Engaged.

Looking at me like I was something you wanted to understand…
like I was someone worth your time.

And then the next…
you had someone else.

Just like that.

No transition.
No shift I could track.
No warning that what I thought was building
was actually already occupied.

And yes…
we agreed on a situationship.

I won’t rewrite that.
I won’t pretend I didn’t accept the terms.

But there’s a difference between mutual understanding
and misleading presence.

Because I didn’t agree to be a placeholder.

I didn’t agree to be the space you sit in
while you figure out another woman.

I didn’t agree to be the emotional comfort
while you repaired something that never ended.

And that’s what it was.

The more I think about it…
the clearer it becomes.

I wasn’t part of your story—
I was the pause in between chapters.

I was the calm before you went back
to what you were already holding onto.

And that realization?
It doesn’t break me…
but it does leave me unsettled.

Because I gave you real energy.

Not forced.
Not performative.
Not half.

Real.

And you met that with… convenience.

I remember when I called you—
when I asked you directly, “why?”

And you said it so calmly.

“I have a girl.”

Just like that.

And then you went on—
talking about growth,
talking about how you want to improve yourself,
talking about how you know I could hold it down 100%
if you played your part…

but you’re “not there yet.”

And at the time…
I respected it.

I thought—
“okay… at least he’s honest.”

But now that I look back?

That wasn’t honesty.

That was presentation.

That was you dressing up the truth
in language that made it sound respectable.

Because real honesty would have come with boundaries.

Real honesty would have meant
not placing yourself in my space
while still being emotionally tied somewhere else.

Real honesty doesn’t invite connection
it can’t sustain.

What you gave me
was a well-spoken version of confusion.

And I see it now—
you’re not different.

You’re just smoother.

You know how to say the right things,
in the right tone,
at the right time.

But at the core?

It’s the same pattern.

Access without intention.
Presence without commitment.
Words without alignment.

And that’s why—

I’m glad it ended.

Not because it didn’t matter…
but because it showed me exactly what I will never accept again.

You didn’t lose me.

You never had me.

Because I don’t belong in spaces
where I have to question my position.

And as for respect?

That’s something you earn
through consistency, clarity, and alignment.

You never gave me that.

So no…

I don’t hate you.
I don’t resent you.

But I don’t respect you either.

And the difference between those three…

Afro fusion fireboy style