I didn’t close the door I became it,

I Didn’t Close the Door. I Became It.

They kept asking me what happened to me ?

`The truth is , I stopped translating my soul for people who refused to hear it,

They asked why I stopped answering,

Why I didn’t return their messages, why I changed and went silent,

I didn’t

I just stopped translating my self into some thing they swallow with out choking,

I used to explain, I used to burn every word into shape just to be seen, then one day, I softened my flame, trimmed my self so other felt safe,

Then, in this moment,

I realised, I wasn’t the flame, I was the gate, and the reason they couldn’t reach me any more?

It’s because they new knew the password, some still knock, some still throw rocks, and one even tried to crawl back under the flame

But I am no longer softwood,

I am carved iron, I am the threshold, I am consequence

And this ? This ?

This is not a return!

This is the start of the archive

You many enter,

Only if you remember?

what’s they called silence,

They called it ghosting

Said I was cold

Said I was distant,

I said, I changed

Yes

I did,

I changed because I remembered,

I remembered what it felt like to keep myself small so they wouldn’t feel insecure. I remembered what it felt like to answer questions they didn’t ask out of curiosity, but control. I remembered how many times I betrayed my own gut just to keep peace,

They didn’t notice when I cried quietly, didn’t hear when I screamed in my own bones, but when I went quite in them,

Suddenly, I was the villain,

They alwags notice the silence,

Never the noise that came before it,

They wanted a vision of me that they could manage.

And not the one I fought to reclaim and am done for apologising for my return,

WHY I BECAME THE DOOR,

It’s not that I shut them out

It’s not that I wanted to shut them out. It’s that I needed to find out who would knock with respect,

Not with a fist. Not with a key they stole from a past version of me.

But with presence. Because the truth is—

I am not unreachable. I am just no longer easily accessed. I became the door because I needed boundaries stronger than fear.

I needed thresholds made from truth.

And I needed to know that anyone who steps through now? Is ready to meet me without trying to fix, shrink, or save me.

This is my return. Not to the world they knew But to the self I almost left behind. You are welcome here. But don’t expect a welcome mat.

Expect a presence. And bring your truth

BUT AT A COST

“What I Lost Before I Sealed the Door”

They’ll never understand what it cost me.

To unhook myself from people who said “I love you”

but only when I was easy to carry.

Before I became the door,

I was the floor they walked on.

The pillow they screamed into.

The pause between their mistakes and their excuses.

I made space for everyone

until I couldn’t find myself inside the house I built.

I let them echo through me like they owned the air, but I was the one left gasping when the lights went out.

And still, I stayed.

Hoping silence would teach them what I couldn’t say.

Hoping love meant something when it wasn’t loud.

But it didn’t.

So now? Now I don’t explain.

I don’t translate.

I don’t perform grief so they’ll believe I cared.

I cared.

I burned for them.

And when I turned to ash,

they called it drama.

That’s why I became the door.

Because if I had stayed open any longer,

they would’ve walked straight through me

and never looked back,