There was a time she gave pieces of herself away as though they were endlessly replaceable.
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Her softness.
Her loyalty.
Her time.
The parts of her that stayed when leaving would have been easier.
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She handed them to people who had never learned the weight of what they were holding, then wondered why they treated something precious like something ordinary.
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She knows better now.
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Access to her is not an entitlement. Her tenderness is not an unlimited resource. Her loyalty is not something someone gets simply because they found their way close enough to ask for it.
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Some people were given far more of her than they ever earned.
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She could be angry about that.
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Sometimes she is.
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But she will not wish those pieces back.
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Because perhaps something of her remained with them. Perhaps somewhere, in some quiet corner of their lives, they became gentler because she once loved them, stood beside them, believed in them, or showed them what it felt like to be truly seen.
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And if they learned nothing at all, she did.
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She learned that being generous with her heart does not require being careless with it.
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She learned that boundaries do not make her cold.
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She learned that leaving the door unlocked is not the same thing as being welcoming.
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And most importantly, she learned that knowing her deeply is no longer something she gives away.
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It is something another person earns.
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© 2026 Wynter Rayne