Tessa ReneeI’ve never been the type to snatch the shovel out of someone’s hands. If you’re determined to bury yourself, I’ll let you. Hell, I’ll stand right there, fingers laced with yours, and watch you pile the dirt higher. People confuse that with cruelty, but it isn’t. It’s compassion with boundaries. It’s me saying: if you’re going to destroy yourself, don’t expect me to destroy myself too.
I’ll warn you. Once, twice, maybe even three times. I’ll point out the cracks in the ground, the weight of the shovel, the way your choices are caving in on you. But if you shrug me off, if you keep digging deeper, then I accept that you’ve made your choice. And my choice? Is to stop pulling you out of holes you insisted on creating.
Still, I’ll be there. I won’t disappear without a word. I’ll hold your hand, offer my presence, give you the dignity of knowing someone stood beside you even as you self-destructed. But don’t confuse my company for endorsement. I’m not cosigning your downfall. I’m just refusing to exhaust myself dragging you toward a future you don’t want.
So yes, I’ll hold your hand while you dig. But don’t be surprised if, when the ground gets too deep, I let go. Not out of malice — but out of mercy. For both of us.
Final Word: Sometimes love looks like letting go of the shovel.
Disclaimer: This is boundary-setting, not abandonment. Don’t twist care into control.
Tessa Renee
