Tessa ReneeSoftness doesn’t mean spineless. People see gentleness and assume it comes without edges, like I’ll bend in every direction just to keep the peace. But my boundaries? They’re sharp enough to draw blood if you push too hard.
I’ll listen to your story. I’ll comfort your fears. I’ll make space for your chaos. But cross the lines I’ve drawn? Test the limits I’ve already made clear? That’s when the softness snaps into something less forgiving. Because my boundaries aren’t just lines in the sand they’re the teeth that protect the softest parts of me.
It took years to learn that. I used to hand out access freely, thinking kindness meant saying yes to everyone. But every time I let someone take more than I wanted to give, I lost a piece of myself. So now, my softness isn’t weakness, it’s a choice. A choice guarded by sharp edges that say: this far, no further.
Final Word: My kindness is warm, but my boundaries bite.
Disclaimer: This is self-protection, not hostility. Boundaries are survival, not cruelty.
Tessa Renee
