The Week the Gnats Watched Me Heal

I. The Echo in the Park

There was once a girl who cried in a park.

She begged a man to choose him,

but all she got was silence and the weight of an unmade decision.

2 years passed,

and one day, the man came back—

not with love,

but with nostalgia.

He said,

“I cried too.”

But his tears came too late to water anything alive.

The girl, now older,

simply blinked, nodded, and closed the door she once left wide open.

________________________________________

II. The Gnat on the Wall

She rested, finally,

not in bed, but on a couch.

And when she looked up—

there it was: a gnat,

silent and still,

watching her rest.

Her mother said flies were drawn to the dead.

But this time, she whispered,

“No.

They are drawn to the reborn.”

The old her was gone,

and the gnat had come not for decay,

but for resurrection.

________________________________________

III. The Elevator That Never Reached 13

That night,

She dreamed of an elevator in a crumbling tower.

It rattled, shook, and always stopped at the 12th floor.

Old classmates stood inside, still gossiping,

still frozen in a version of her that no longer existed.

So she stepped off.

And walked toward the stairwell,

not to rise—

but to exit.

________________________________________

IV. The Man Who Could Finally Lift Her

Once, she asked men to carry her.

But they all had excuses—

bad backs, weak arms, or just… no interest.

But in a dream,

a faceless man with dark, warm hands lifted her effortlessly.

For once, she didn’t flinch.

She just leaned into the safety.

And when the man said, “You have to walk now,”

she didn’t resist.

She walked.

________________________________________

V. The Ring Without Its Core

She wore a ring that was two in one.

But one day, she took out the middle piece

and wore only what remained.

It wasn’t loss—

it was clarity.

She wore the part that stayed when everything else was stripped away.

________________________________________

VI. The Goodbye That Wasn’t a Text

She used to send goodbye messages—

long, heartfelt paragraphs,

trying to convince others to understand her worth.

But this time,

she didn’t type.

She deleted the numbers.

The photos.

The receipts.

Because the goodbye wasn’t for them this time—

it was for herself.

________________________________________

VII. The Girl in the Dress & the Girl on the Floor

In a dream, a girl made her a prom dress.

But someone said she shouldn’t wear it.

So she gave it away.

But deep inside, she knew—

next time,

she’d wear the white dress.

Because next time,

she wouldn’t shrink.

She woke up, not in a bed,

but surrounded by the quiet.

No texts.

No knocks.

Just silence,

and a whisper inside:

“I don’t need to be picked.

I already chose me.”

________________________________________

Epilogue: The Final Line

She no longer begged love to stay.

She no longer blamed gnats for hovering.

She no longer texted to keep people who left.

She simply stood,

wore her ring,

opened the curtains,

and said out loud:

“Let the real ones come.

I’ve made room.”

-The Soft Witness