I'm Not Bitter. I'm Just Not the Same Girl Who Waited.

I'm Not Bitter. I'm Just Not the Same Girl Who Waited.

I used to be her—the girl who stayed up late waiting for a reply, checking her phone between tasks, rereading conversations looking for hope in between the lines. The girl who made excuses for others, who believed if she just loved hard enough, it would be enough. That girl lived on crumbs, convinced they were a feast.

But I’m not her anymore.

And no, I’m not bitter. I’m better. Not because the pain didn’t cut deep—but because I learned how to heal without closure, how to rebuild without apologies, and how to walk away with my dignity intact when all I wanted to do was hold on.

Waiting Used to Be My Love Language

Back then, I thought love meant patience. It meant sacrifice. It meant proving your worth over and over again until someone finally realized you were "the one." I stayed in places I’d outgrown, in relationships that drained me, in patterns that only led to disappointment—because I believed love had to be earned through endurance.

But there's a difference between patience and self-abandonment.

I ignored red flags. I accepted half-efforts. I believed silence was a form of communication that I needed to decipher, rather than a sign that I was being neglected. I confused longing with love, and waiting with loyalty. All the while, I was losing pieces of myself in the process.

I romanticized struggle. I made it noble to wait for someone who was never really showing up for me in the first place.

Transformation Isn’t Always Beautiful

People talk about glow-ups like they’re pretty. Like it’s all about doing your makeup differently, changing your wardrobe, hitting the gym. But the real transformation? It’s raw. It's painful. It’s built on lonely nights, closed doors, and cold realizations.

I didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly feel stronger. I crawled my way out of heartbreak, inch by inch. I started setting boundaries that felt like walls at first. I started saying "no" to things that used to be my whole world. I stopped explaining myself, stopped justifying why I deserved better.

It wasn’t easy. I had to grieve the girl I used to be—the one who gave endlessly, hoped fearlessly, and waited selflessly. But that girl was also the reason I had to change. Because she kept giving chances to people who treated her like an option. Because she confused chaos with chemistry.

So I let her go.

I No Longer Wait—And That’s My Freedom

Today, I no longer wait for someone to see my worth. I no longer water relationships that don’t water me back. I don’t chase. I don’t beg. I don’t over-explain. If you can’t meet me where I’m at—emotionally, mentally, spiritually—I won’t shrink myself to meet you halfway.

Some people call it being cold. Others call it "walls." I call it self-respect.

The truth is, when you stop waiting for others to choose you, you start choosing yourself in ways you never thought possible. You reclaim your time, your energy, your peace. You become the kind of person who no longer looks for love to complete you—but welcomes it only when it aligns with your standards.

You become a force.

They’ll Say You’ve Changed—Let Them

Here’s the part they don’t talk about: when you stop playing small, people will notice. When you stop accepting less, the people who gave you less will feel it. They’ll say you’re different. They’ll say you’re distant. They’ll call you difficult, maybe even heartless.

Let them.

They don’t know the war you fought with yourself to stop waiting. They don’t understand the internal battles you endured to finally stand up and say, “I deserve more.” They don’t see the tears you cried when you realized loving someone doesn't mean sacrificing your self-worth.

You owe no one an apology for evolving. Especially not the people who benefitted from your silence, your softness, your endless patience.

I’m Still Soft—But My Softness Has Boundaries

Let me be clear—I’m not bitter. I still believe in love, in second chances, in healing. I still give my heart, but I no longer hand it to people who haven’t earned the right to hold it.

I’m still soft. But I’m no longer naive.

I’m still loving. But I’m no longer losing myself in the process.

I’m still open. But I’m guarded by lessons, not by walls.

And if that makes me different than the girl I used to be—so be it.

Because the girl who waited? She deserved better. And I’m finally becoming the woman who gives it to her.