Glittered Cups & Zero Fucks-

Sometimes disappearing is self-preservation.

I didn’t ghost because I’m immature. I ghosted because explaining myself one more time felt like emotional labor I wasn’t being paid for.

I ghosted because the conversation would’ve gone nowhere. Because the pattern was already clear. Because silence was easier than repeating myself to someone committed to misunderstanding me.

Closure is overrated when clarity already exists.

I don’t owe continued access to people who repeatedly cross the same lines.

I chose peace.

And I’d do it again.

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Unhinged But Alive — I left without a speech.

I didn’t learn boundaries from books or therapy buzzwords.

I learned them from exhaustion.

From resentment.

From staying too long and giving too much.

I learned boundaries after realizing that being “understanding” was costing me my sanity. After watching people take advantage of my flexibility and call it closeness.

Boundaries didn’t make me cold.

They made me safer.

Anyone who gets angry at your boundaries was benefiting from you not having any.

I didn’t become distant.

I became selective.

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Unhinged But Alive — access is conditional.

Burnout isn’t always dramatic.

It doesn’t always look like crying on the floor or missing deadlines. Sometimes it looks like still showing up — just without feeling anything.

You stop caring the way you used to.

You stop reacting.

You stop hoping.

You function. You smile. You handle things. And inside, everything feels muted — like someone turned the volume down on your life.

That’s the dangerous part.

Because numb looks productive. Numb looks responsible. Numb gets praised.

Until one day you realize you don’t recognize yourself anymore.

Burnout didn’t break me loudly.

It hollowed me out quietly.

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Unhinged But Alive — functioning, not fine.

I am exhausted from being described as “strong.”

Strong is what people call you when they don’t plan on helping.

Strong is what you become when no one steps in.

Strong is the compliment they use when you’ve been carrying too much for too long.

I didn’t wake up resilient. I adapted because I had no other option. I learned how to survive discomfort, disappointment, and pressure without letting it show — and now everyone expects that version of me to be permanent.

I don’t want applause for endurance.

I want relief.

I want rest that isn’t earned through suffering.

I’m still capable.

I’m just done being resilient as a personality trait.

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Unhinged But Alive — resilient and resentful.

I’m allowed to want something and then not want it anymore.

I’m allowed to try, pivot, walk away, come back, or burn the whole plan down and start fresh.

Consistency is overrated when it’s built on obligation instead of alignment.

I don’t owe anyone the same version of me forever. Growth doesn’t ask permission — it just happens.

If my evolution inconveniences you, that’s unfortunate.

But I’m not staying stuck to make anyone comfortable.

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Unhinged But Alive — I evolve without warning.

There are conversations I still replay in my head.

Not because I want closure — but because I wish I’d been louder.

I wish I’d said “that hurt” instead of laughing it off.

I wish I’d said “don’t talk to me like that.”

I wish I’d said “this isn’t okay” before it became normal.

Silence didn’t protect me.

It trained people how far they could go.

Now I speak sooner. Sharper. Less politely.

Not because I’m angry — but because I learned.

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Unhinged But Alive — I say it now.

Let’s not pretend I’m evolved.

Some things absolutely piss me off for no logical reason — and I’m done pretending they don’t.

People who say “just checking in” and then immediately ask for something.

Fake urgency.

Weaponized positivity.

“Everything happens for a reason” said at the wrong fucking time.

I’m not trying to be peaceful. I’m trying to be honest.

Anger isn’t the enemy — suppression is.

I don’t explode because I’m irrational.

I explode because I’ve been patient for too long.

This is me choosing truth over tolerance.

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Unhinged But Alive — still pissed, still standing.

No one talks about what strength actually costs.

Being the strong one means you’re the last to be checked on. The one people assume is fine. The one expected to handle it — whatever it is — without complaint.

Strength becomes an expectation instead of a choice.

You don’t get softness.

You don’t get pauses.

You don’t get permission to fall apart.

So you learn to carry everything quietly. To compartmentalize. To bleed internally and still show up functional.

And eventually, you realize strength without support is just survival dressed up nicely.

I’m still strong.

I’m just done being strong for free.

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Unhinged But Alive — strength has a price.

I was never too loud, too emotional, too intense, or too honest.

I was just surrounded by people who couldn’t meet me where I was.

Calling someone “too much” is what people do when they don’t want to rise to the occasion. It’s easier to label than to show up. Easier to criticize than to reciprocate.

I didn’t ask for too much.

I asked the wrong people.

And once I realized that, everything changed.

I stopped dimming.

Stopped editing myself.

Stopped apologizing for my depth.

If my presence overwhelmed you, that wasn’t a flaw — it was incompatibility.

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Unhinged But Alive — I refuse to be digestible.

What’s wild is how many people took everything I gave and still had the audacity to ask why I changed.

They drained my time.

My energy.

My emotional labor.

They vented, leaned, borrowed, unloaded — and called it closeness.

Then the moment I pulled back, they acted blindsided. Hurt. Offended. Confused.

Let me be clear:

I didn’t disappear.

I stopped overextending.

I stopped pouring into people who treated me like a resource instead of a human. I stopped confusing loyalty with self-abandonment. I stopped setting myself on fire to keep others warm.

If you miss the old me, what you really miss is access.

And that version of me doesn’t exist anymore.

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Unhinged But Alive — access revoked.