Ten Days Before Freedom

 There was a version of me that kept choosing silence just to keep the peace.

The version that stayed on the back burner, waiting for her turn, convincing herself that love meant patience… even when it felt like disappearing.


I used to think if I just tried harder—loved softer, spoke calmer, gave more—I could fix what was breaking between us.
But somewhere in that loop… I lost myself.


Because it became a cycle.
Say something. Get shut down.
Feel something. Get told I’m too much.
Ask for clarity. Get confusion in return.


And then I’d sit there rereading everything—my words, your words—trying to figure out where I went wrong…
when really, I was just trying to be heard.


That’s what “Loop of War” really is.
Not yelling. Not chaos.
Just the quiet exhaustion of fighting to be understood by someone who keeps turning the conversation into something else.


And the cracks?
Those didn’t come from one moment.
They came from all the small ones.


Every time I swallowed how I felt.
Every time I questioned my own reality.
Every time I was made to feel like expressing pain was a problem instead of something to be cared for.


“Cracks You Made” isn’t about blame.
It’s about damage that happened while I was still trying to love you.


And the hardest part?
You can write songs about love.
You can say all the right things.
You can sound like the safest place in the world…


…but then I sit next to you in real life, and I feel completely alone.


That’s where “Echo, Not Equal” came from.
Because I started realizing… I wasn’t being met.
I was being mirrored just enough to keep me there, but never enough to actually hold me.


You rise.
I shrink.


And I kept asking myself—
Is this love… or am I just a presence that’s convenient to keep around?


Because love isn’t supposed to make you feel like you have to break just to keep it working.


I shouldn’t have to become smaller so you can feel bigger.
I shouldn’t have to go quiet just to be kept.
I shouldn’t have to question whether I’m a person you love… or just someone you’re used to.


For anyone reading this and wondering—these pieces I reference, they’re not just thoughts.
They’re my songs. My processing. My way of surviving.


I write them, and I use the AI music app Suno to bring them to life.
If you want to hear the full story in sound, you can find me under MDR Music—that’s where all of this lives beyond the words.


And right now… I’m in a moment I never thought I’d reach.


In 10 days, I have a divorce hearing.
I’ve already escaped his grasp physically… but emotionally? That part doesn’t just shut off when you leave.


The trauma lingers.
The second-guessing.
The way your mind replays everything, wondering what was real and what wasn’t.


That’s where this entry comes from.


Not from weakness—but from healing in progress.


Because I’ve been through too much already to stay stuck in something that keeps reopening wounds I worked so hard to close.


I’m not that version of me anymore.


I’m not the girl who stays silent.
I’m not the girl who waits to be chosen.
I’m not the girl who keeps proving her worth to someone who benefits from her doubting it.


I’m becoming something else now.


Something stronger.
Something louder.
Something that doesn’t apologize for needing to be loved correctly.


The cracks are still there…
but they’re not breaking me anymore.


They’re glowing.


And this time—
I’m not shrinking to fit into someone else’s version of love.


I’m rising into my own.


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