I don’t need closure from someone who had no problem shooting me when I finally took my bulletproof vest off.
You taught me that some people will love you only when you’re armored, when your softness doesn’t expose their reflection. You taught me that vulnerability, when offered to the wrong heart, can be mistaken for weakness instead of courage.
I had to shut off the human in me just to walk through the pain you put me through. And that’s the part that changed me the most, not the hurt itself, but who I had to become to survive it.
Even now, I can admit I still have love for you. Not the kind that wants you back, but the kind that recognizes your soul and forgives it for not being ready. The kind that says, I see your wounds and the way they bled all over me.
But no, I don’t need closure.
You gave me all the closure I needed when you showed me who you were. The silence was a confession. The distance was a revelation.
I saw your soul more clearly than anyone ever has, and that terrified you. You ran from the mirror I became.
And maybe that’s what real closure is, realizing that the ending doesn’t come from a conversation but from a reckoning. It’s the moment you stop waiting for someone to make sense of the pain they caused and start seeing that pain as the teacher it was always meant to be.
So no, I don’t need you to say sorry.
I don’t need to sit across from you to make peace.
I made peace the day I stopped bleeding for someone who wasn’t willing to stop the fight.
Because closure isn’t something they give you.
It’s something you take back when you decide you’re done suffering for someone else’s unhealed soul.
