To your Mother

I don't do revenge. Just the fact that you don't have access to me is enough.

You no longer get to hear my voice, feel my energy, or experience the comfort of my presence.

That’s not punishment — it’s just the natural consequence of mistreating someone

I’m not interested in getting back at you.

I don’t lose sleep thinking of ways to make you feel what you made me feel.

Because the truth is — I don’t need to.

Your loss is loud enough.

My absence echoes in ways revenge never could.

You’ll remember my silence every time you realize I’m no longer reachable.

You’ll think of me when you see that I kept going, healed, and moved forward without dragging your name, without stooping to your level.

I don’t react anymore — I remove.

I don’t argue — I distance.

I don’t chase — I choose myself.

And that’s the kind of revenge that actually hurts:

Losing access to the version of me that loved you, trusted you, believed in you.

I’m not bitter — I’m better.

I’m not cold — I’m clear.

I’m not angry — I’m aware.

And that awareness is what saved me.

I don’t seek revenge. I seek peace.

And peace means letting go of people who only ever found comfort in chaos.

So no, you won’t get a reaction from me.

You won’t get a second chance.

You won’t get another version of me to hurt.

Because I’ve grown.

And now, my silence, my absence, and my peace…

Are louder than any form of revenge could ever be.