I really thought I meant it. That this was it, the final conversation, the last time I’d go back, the moment where everything would finally close the way I told myself it needed to. “One last time.” It sounded good. It felt convincing. And for a second… I believed it. [...]

I meant it when I blocked him. That wasn’t random. It came from a place of being done, of being tired, of finally hitting that point where I didn’t want to see it anymore, didn’t want to deal with it anymore, didn’t want access to something that kept pulling me [...]

I knew before I even left. That feeling in my gut, that little voice that already knew how this could go, how it usually goes, how it probably wasn’t going to end the way I told myself it might this time. I knew. And I still went. Not because I [...]

I meant it when I said I was done. At least in that moment. I was clear, I was sure, I was fully in that headspace where I knew I deserved better, knew I wasn’t doing this again, knew I wasn’t going to keep entertaining something that already showed me [...]

I knew better. Let’s start there. I knew exactly what I was doing, knew how it could go, knew the history, the pattern, the way this situation has played out before. There was no confusion, no innocence, no “I didn’t think it through.” I did. And I still texted him. [...]