boundaries, with teeth

i used to think being strict made me hard to love. i used to think having structure meant i was too much, too intense, too difficult, too complicated to keep. i used to soften things that deserved teeth. i used to explain myself until my chest hurt, hoping people would finally understand that i was not trying to control them. i was trying to protect the parts of me i almost lost by letting too many people do whatever the hell they wanted with my heart.

there is a difference between control and boundaries. control says, “you have to live how i want you to live.” boundaries say, “you can live however you want, but you will not bring certain things to my door and expect me to call it love.” that difference matters. i am not here to hold grown people hostage. i am not here to beg for basic respect. i am not here to raise someone else’s emotional maturity with my bare hands while they keep cutting me open and acting confused when i bleed.

i am strict because i had to become that way. i come with structure because chaos almost swallowed me whole. i have rules for my peace now. i have standards for my love now. i have limits around my body, my energy, my home, my relationships, my softness, and my survival. that does not make me cold. that makes me honest. that makes me awake. that makes me someone who finally learned that love without respect is just damage wearing a pretty mouth.

i cannot tell anyone what to do. i cannot make anyone choose me correctly. i cannot force consistency, honesty, loyalty, effort, or care out of someone who only wants the comfort of my presence without the responsibility of handling me well. but i can tell you what you are not going to do with me. you are not going to keep repeating the same behavior and call my reaction the problem. you are not going to make me feel unsafe and then ask why i am guarded. you are not going to love me loudly when it feels good and wound me quietly when accountability shows up.

i am not building a life where i have to shrink to keep people comfortable. i am not becoming softer by becoming smaller. the woman i am now has survived too much to hand herself over without structure. she has earned her standards. she has earned her voice. she has earned the right to say no without writing a whole damn essay about why.

so yes, i am strict as fuck. i come with structure. i come with love too, deep love, loyal love, the kind that will sit in the dark with you and still reach for your hand. but do not mistake my love for permission to mishandle me. do not mistake my softness for weakness. do not mistake access to me for ownership of me.

i am not impossible to love. i am just no longer available to be destroyed in the name of it.

with ink + bloom, 🌻