When Silence Becomes Survival

 Strength They’ll Never Understand

i’ve always struggled to open up, not out of pride, but cause i’ve been taught, in the most brutal ways, to be careful. i used to believe if i spoke my truth soft enough, someone would hold it with tenderness. but i’ve watched my own words twisted, mocked, used as weapons by the very people i thought would protect me.

that kinda betrayal doesn’t just break your trust, it messes up your whole relationship with vulnerability. you start biting your tongue, even when it burns. you start measuring every word, every emotion, scared the wrong person will carry it away and throw it back at you in pieces. you build walls, not to keep love out, but just to keep yourself safe from the people who once called themselves home.

and lately… the hurt came from those i trusted the most. people i laughed with, confided in, built memories with. people who swore they’d never turn their backs, only to vanish when things got heavy. they weren’t just friends, they were constants, chosen family. so when betrayal came, it didn’t just sting it shattered. made me question everything. was i ever truly cared for? or was i just convenient until i wasn’t?

i’ve had to accept some people will never apologize. not cause they don’t know they hurt you, but cause admitting it means facing a version of themselves they can’t stand. so they rewrite the story. in their version, i’m too emotional, too much. in their version, they walked away for “peace”  not cause they caused the storm.

not everyone has the heart to take accountability. not everyone can carry the weight of pain they caused. some people would rather hold pride than guilt. and honestly, that’s not mine to bleed over.

so no, i’ll probably never get the apology i waited for with my heart wide open. but i’m learning to live without it. learning to let go of the apology that’ll never come. learning to stop hoping it might.

and yet… there are nights i still ache. nights i whisper maybe if i’d said less, trusted less, cared less… i wouldn’t be here patching up wounds i didn’t deserve. i thought being alone meant being strong. but strength, i’ve learned, isn’t about not needing anyone  it’s about surviving after being needed, then discarded.

still, no matter how much we say solitude is power, there’s a part of us aching for something softer. to be held without explaining. to be safe with someone who won’t turn our vulnerability into a weapon. we crave connection, even after all it’s cost. that’s the cruel truth  we wanna be heard, even if we’ve forgotten how to speak.

so if you’ve ever felt this carrying grief in silence cause the world said your pain was too loud, you’re not alone. i see you. i get the ache behind your smile. i know what it’s like to beg the night for answers, closure, peace.

and maybe those who hurt us will never say the words we needed. maybe they’ll never know how deep the wound went. maybe they sleep peacefully while we’re up at 2am replaying conversations, wondering if we were too much or not enough. they might never see how we flinch at memories, how we second guess ourselves cause they made us feel like our feelings were a burden.

but even without the apology, without the closure we begged for we rise. not loudly, not all at once. but piece by piece, in the quiet mornings when we choose to get up even tho it hurts. we rise when we wipe our own tears, when we soothe our own aching hearts, when we keep loving, even when the world’s been cruel.

we are not unworthy just cause someone didn’t choose us, didn’t stay, didn’t care enough to be careful with us. their lack of love doesn’t shrink our capacity to give it. some people just can’t handle a soft heart, so they break it without realizing the weight of what they’ve done.

and that… that’s a kind of strength they’ll never get. the kind that keeps showing up. that heals in silence. that still reaches out, even with trembling hands. you’re still here. and that means more than you know.