On the Other Side of the Door 💌
A love letter about the fear of what clarity might reveal. 💌
I'm scared that if I let you walk out that door,
I'll never want to see you again.
Not because I stopped loving you.
Not because I hate you.
But because space has a way of revealing the truth.
Because every time I return to myself,
the fog begins to clear.
The noise settles.
And the silence becomes so complete,
you could hear a pin drop.
That's when I hear myself again.
Not your voice.
Not your excuses.
Not my hopes for who you could become.
Just me.
And in that stillness,
the veil starts to lift.
The clock shifts.
The confusion loosens its grip.
And I remember who I am outside of us.
I remember how good my own company feels.
How peaceful my own frequency is.
How much of myself I've been negotiating away,
trying to keep something together
that maybe wasn't mine to carry alone.
I'm scared that if you leave,
I'll sit with myself long enough
to realize I wasn't asking for too much.
I was asking someone
who wasn't ready to meet me where I stood.
And once I see that,
once the veil lifts,
once I remember my own worth,
I don't know if I'll be able to unsee it.
I don't know if I'll want to.
Maybe that's what scares me most.
Not losing you.
But realizing that peace
was waiting for me
on the other side of the door.
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