No, I can’t always reply. Not because I don’t want to, but because I have a life that doesn’t fit inside a screen. My phone is not my oxygen. I don’t breathe notifications, I don’t feed on messages, I don’t exist in an “online” status. I am a person, not a reflection trapped in glass. Being an adult is not being available 24/7, it’s working, resting, thinking, feeling without having to report it. It’s choosing silence without guilt. The real world doesn’t vibrate in your pocket: it beats in the body, in the exhaustion, in the responsibilities no one sees behind a “why didn’t you reply?” I’m not a parasite of my phone. I don’t depend on it to exist. If I don’t respond, it’s not disinterest, it’s life. And if that bothers you, maybe the problem isn’t my absence… but your constant need for someone to always be there. @newgirldark @newgirldark
I was a child carrying weight I didn’t choose, keys in my hand… but nothing to lose. Open doors, still trapped inside, living a life where I had to hide. Fourteen years and already worn, no space to grow, just a role reborn. Plates on the table, none of them mine, feeding them all while losing time. I wasn’t living… I was assigned, a body in place, a silenced mind. They needed hands, I became those hands, holding together what no one stands. Now I step back… now I refuse, and suddenly I’m the one they accuse. “You’ve changed”… yeah, I broke the chain, you call it loss… I call it pain. It wasn’t love… it was control, a quiet theft of a growing soul. Not a home… just a scripted space, where I disappeared without a trace. Now I move different… I breathe alone, and they blame the world for the life I’ve known. Blame who I love, blame who I see, but never the weight they put on me. I don’t want death… I want release, from a life that never gave me peace....
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