Unbroken

 

I’m done being the victim.

I’m so done with the fake sympathy people throw my way. You look at me, your eyes full of pity and sorrow, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be fixed. I don’t need your sympathy. You don’t get to wrap me up in your sorrow and call it love. 

That’s not love. 

Love isn’t empty words and hollow gestures. Love doesn’t come with the weight of “I’m so sorry for your loss” while you continue wearing your perfect little facade.

No. I’m done with it. 

Done with the masks people wear, pretending like they give a damn. You look at me like you understand, but you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t see the battles inside me. You only see the surface, the broken pieces. But you don’t see the scars, the ones that tell stories of pain—physical and emotional—that are too deep for you to ever understand.

I loved deeply. I lost deeply. And that pain is mine to carry. Not yours. So stop acting like you have some right to feel sorry for me. Stop offering me your empty words like they’ll make it better. They won’t. You don’t know how it feels to lose a part of yourself. You don’t understand what it’s like to have the world feel hollow because a piece of it is gone.

But I’m done. I’m done letting you define me by my grief. I’m tired of being the one everyone feels sorry for. I’m tired of being that person—the one who’s broken, who needs saving, who everyone treads lightly around. I’m not some fragile thing. 

I’m a fighter, and I’m still standing. I will rise. I’ll rise higher than you think.

And if you think I need your pity to get through this, then you’ve completely misunderstood who I am.

BTS said it best: “Eh yo, bring the pain, oh yeah!”

Bring it. I’m ready. I’ve already got the scars to prove it, both inside and out. If you think that’ll stop me, you’re wrong. I’m not fragile anymore. 

This pain? It’s just another layer of strength I’m going to build. “Let me show you how to break, let me show you how to rise.” I’m not here for your sympathy. I’m here to turn this into power.

I don’t need your false words or your pity to be strong. You’ve been too busy acting like I need to stay down, too busy pretending you care to see that I’m already climbing. I’m done with the way you think I should grieve. You don’t own me. This pain doesn’t own me.

I will rise. 

I’ll rise from the ashes, stronger than ever. I’ll become invincible. 

“I’m not afraid to take a step, I’ll keep running forward.” 

I’ll keep moving forward. You’ll see. And when I do, you won’t be able to hide behind your fake smiles or your forced sympathy anymore.

Bring the pain. I can take it. And when I'm done, you won’t even recognize the person who comes out of this.