Loathing for Liars

You’re fluent in conflict avoidance

Dancing through landmines you planted yourself

Say you’re working on “boundaries and balance”

But your therapist deserves hazard pay at this point

You wanted honesty—got it on tap

Meanwhile, you’re running a full-time recap

Of things you swore you’d already closed

Funny how ghosts get VIP codes

And maybe you think you’re being brave

But self-sabotage has such a sweet face

You don’t have to lie—you just rearrange

The facts ‘til they feel less strange

So what happens next? Enlighten me

Another monologue on who you “used to be”?

You’re building bridges just to watch them bend

Telling me it’s healing when it’s just pretend

You say I matter, but only when

You’re not chasing storms dressed up as zen

I’m not the one who needs to flex—

So surprise me…

What happens next?

She’s watching it all like a silent film

Picking up cues on when to shrink or still

You say love is safe, but your hands shake

Every time you touch what you can’t fake

You light a match, then blame the flame

Dress up the wreckage and call it change

Say “I care,” but keep the score

Like I’m the prize and she’s the war

You confuse guilt for depth, and chaos for fate

But growth’s not real if it always comes late

So what happens next? Take the mic

Will you ghost yourself or get it right?

You’re fluent in almost, addicted to “if”

High on apologies, low on shift

You say you’re better—then show me how

’Cause words are cute, but empty now

This isn’t poker, it’s self-respect—

And you’re all in…

So what happens next?

If love’s a mirror, you’ve cracked the glass

Teaching her future by reliving your past

You say you’re grown, but you’re still on pause

A masterclass in noble flaws

Rewrite the script or own the role

You can’t be the hero and play console

She deserves better than borrowed lines

This isn’t healing—it’s buying time

What happens next? Don’t phone it in

This story’s tired, worn too thin

If this is your arc, then call it closed

I’ve outgrown cliffhangers and “almosts”

You wanted real? Then make it count

Or say you can’t and walk it out

But I’ve done my part, no more context—

You choose the ending

What happens next

I’m not your lesson, I’m not your test

But even patience has its exit