Three weeks ago, I was still crying over a man who hadn’t chosen me. Still aching. Still yearning. Still loving him deeply, despite everything he didn’t give. Despite all the promises that never showed up. Despite all the ways he made me feel like I wasn’t enough to choose.

It’s wild how fast things shift.

Maybe it wasn’t really three weeks. Maybe it started unraveling in January; when the rollercoaster picked up again. The push, the pull. I love you, but I can’t choose you. I want forever with you; but I can’t walk away from what I’ve already built. I’ll find a way to make space for you, but not now. I’ll be honest, but only when it benefits me. I’ll keep you close, but only in the dark. I’ll let go completely; when it’s finally too late.

And then silence. Cold, cutting silence. Like I never mattered at all.

That kind of confusion does something to a person. It breaks your trust. It makes you question your worth. Because all you want, in the end, is to be chosen.

And maybe that’s why I’m here now; accepting the bare minimum from someone else. Letting Daniel choose me in his own quiet, limited way. It’s not fair to me, I know that. It says something about where I am with myself right now. But I’m not oblivious.

I’m just tired of begging to feel wanted.

Right now… I want to feel chosen, even if it’s not perfect. Even if it’s not forever. Even if it’s just for now.

Because after being with someone for 10 years, holding everything together, being the one who carried the weight, who stepped into every role just to keep things from falling apart, I don’t want to carry anymore. I don’t want to beg anymore. I just want to live.

I want to take my babies by the hand and show them skies we’ve never seen. I want to find unfamiliar cities and let the wind tell us where to go. I want to leave pieces of myself in new places, collect memories like bruises and ink, marks that say I was here. I want to feel the sun in other zip codes, feel the thrill of saying yes without explaining why. I want to stretch. To breathe deeper. To reclaim the pieces of me that I buried for someone else’s comfort. I want to become art again; unfiltered, undone, and unapologetically mine.

Because I couldn’t have that before. I was tied down to someone who claimed to love me but never truly appreciated me. And then I found someone who let me be soft… but controlled me in other ways. And I let him, because I wanted to feel like a woman again. But now I know… that wasn’t softness. That wasn’t love.

That was manipulation dressed as leadership. That was not the womanhood I was meant to walk in.

I thought he was going to lead, I believed him when he said he loved me, when he spoke about forever like it was already ours. But in the end, he walked away, leaving me with empty promises of everything he swore he’d stay for.

And that’s when it happened… The pedestal broke. I stopped romanticizing the version of him I’d created in my mind. I stopped building a future that was never really being built. I finally started seeing the truth: That it’s not going to happen. Not now. Maybe not ever.

And for the first time… I’m okay with that.

I’m learning to stop controlling the future. To stop trying to hold the steering wheel with shaking hands and white knuckles. I’m learning to live for the now.

And right now… Daniel is the moment I’m allowing myself to feel without expectation

He’s not on a pedestal. He’s exactly where he stands. And maybe it won’t last. Maybe it’s not deep. Maybe it’s not what I need long-term.

I want to exhale without planning the next inhale. I want to feel something real; even if it’s fleeting. I want to be held, desired, chosen; not for always, but for exactly who I am in this moment

Because for once, I’m not chasing what could be. I’m living in what is.

No regrets. No begging. No pretending. Just this moment. And for now… that’s enough