Sacred Defiance.

There’s a kind of pain that doesn’t show up in bruises or broken bones.

It shows up in silence.

In absence.

In the way people who should have loved you—who should have seen you—pretend you don’t exist when you need them most.

And I’m done with it.

I am done with making myself small so others can stay comfortable.

I am done with swallowing the words just to keep the peace with people who wouldn’t even notice if I stopped breathing.

I am done with begging for scraps of affection, attention, decency.

You think your distance is punishing me?

No, love.

You’re teaching me how to live without you.

I’m not being punished.

I’m adjusting.

You think you can ignore me?

Good luck.

I have survived worse than this.

I have survived fires you will never understand.

And I am not burned out—I am burning brighter.

You taught me what it feels like to be abandoned. To be invisible.

But here’s the part you never saw coming:

That pain? That heartbreak? It became my fuel.

It became my power.

And now?

I am Sacred Defiance.

I am petals and ashes.

I am the one who will rise, and rise, and rise again.

So let me say it one more time for the people in the back:

You think you can ignore me? Good luck.

I am no longer asking to be seen.

I am making myself unforgettable.