The Night I Stopped Waiting

The night I stopped waiting

was quiet, almost ordinary,

which felt unfair somehow.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed,

phone dark in my hand,

realizing no message was coming.

I told myself I was patient,

that love takes time,

that maybe tomorrow would be different.

But how long do you wait

before waiting becomes a habit?

Before hope turns into self-neglect?

I noticed how tired my body felt,

how my chest loosened

when I imagined not expecting anything.

What if nothing changes because I don’t choose it?

What if staying is easier than leaving?

That night, I didn’t make a dramatic decision.

I just stopped checking.

Stopped explaining.

Stopped holding space for silence.

I went to sleep without expecting to be chosen,

and woke up closer to myself than I’d been in years.