I’m not waiting for you anymore
I understood too late
that waiting builds prisons
with invisible bars
and doors no one has to lock.
I was taught to believe
that meeting someone would change everything,
that a particular face
would come to repair what was missing,
that an extraordinary love
would finally give meaning
to my existence.
I rejected that story.
I am not a forgotten half
begging for its missing piece.
I am not an empty house
waiting for someone to move in.
I am not a riddle
whose answer belongs to someone else.
I exist before you arrive
and I will exist after you leave.
I would rather have an imperfect freedom
than an affection turned into surveillance.
I would rather choose solitude
than accept an imposed presence.
I would rather face a brutal truth
than accept those forms of tenderness
that demand I surrender myself.
Love should not possess.
It should not manage a life
like private property.
It should not hand out
certificates of worth
to those who fit
the expectations of the romantic marketplace.
I no longer want to be selected,
evaluated, compared,
accepted under conditions.
I want to meet someone
who promises me no eternity,
but respects my freedom.
Someone who stays
without turning their presence
into a debt.
And if no one comes,
I will not consider my existence
a failure.
I will keep moving forward,
not toward someone,
but toward myself.
Because true rebellion
begins when we stop waiting
for someone else to finally give us permission
to live fully.
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