*I used to think they were the problem.*
The emotionally unavailable ones. The almosts. The sweet talkers who made promises they couldn’t keep.
And yeah, some of them were a mess.
Not bad people, just emotionally unavailable in ways I kept trying to fix.
But I wasn’t innocent either.
I said I wanted love, but I also wanted control. To be chased, worshipped, and fought for. I tested people instead of trusting them.
I wanted to know they’d stay, even when I pushed them away.
I wanted the upper hand.

I guess a part of me believed if I stayed one step ahead, I wouldn’t get hurt.

If they left, it wouldn’t be a surprise. I already made them prove they would. And if they stayed, I’d question it anyway. Confusing right?

Welcome to my mess.

Sometimes I created the push and pull dynamics. Found things that would “give me the ick” so it excused my early exits..

I called it “boundaries,” but it was fear.

It was self-protection.

It was sabotage disguised as self-respect sometimes.

The worst part? I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

I spent ten years with someone who broke me down slowly. Emotionally, mentally. Every line I drew got crossed. Every soft part of me was used against me. Weaponized.

When I finally left, I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for survival. I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted to be in control.

And I brought that into everything after. I thought I was protecting myself. But really, I was just waiting for the next person to hurt me. So I’d hurt them first. I made it impossible for anyone to win.

And if they walked away, I made it their fault.
But it was me. I was the one leaving first.
I was the one pulling back emotionally.
Never allowing anyone to see those soft parts of me again. I was the one making it impossible to stay. I wasn’t just the victim. I was the villain. I became the very thing I thought I was healing from.

And here’s the truth that gutted me the most:

I was the fuckboy I cried over. The one who couldn’t commit. The one who pulled away when things got real. The one who made love feel like a performance you could never get right.

That’s how I became the problem.

I wasn’t some broken girl hoping to be rescued….I was the one doing the damage and calling it defense. It’s easy to feel morally superior when you date people who aren’t emotionally available anyways. You never have to look at your own shit. You can just blame them.

But then someone healthy shows ups

Kind. Steady. Clear.

And you realize you don’t know what to do with it.

Thats happened to me a few times..

But I treated them like they didn’t matter. Used them for their warmth because part of me wasn’t quite whole.

They show up. I shut down.

They try. I pulled away.

They asked for honesty. I gave silence.

They gave consistency. I gave mixed signals.

Not because I wanted to hurt them.. but because I didn’t trust they would stay if they saw the real me.

I’ve been a runner.
Every time someone expected something real from me, I got scared.
I backed off.
I pushed them away just to see if they’d hold on. And when they didn’t, I got to cry over them fulfilling the story I had already written.
I’d say “leave me alone” when really I wanted to be held closer.

I don’t hate the version of me who did that.

She didn’t know better.

She was doing what she thought she had to.

But I’m trying not to be her anymore.

I want something honest now.

Something calm.

Something I don’t have to earn or prove.

I want to stop testing people. Stop sabotaging the good. Stop pretending distance makes me safe. Because it doesn’t.

It just keeps me alone.

So no, they weren’t all bad. Some of them came into my life as mirrors, showing me what I still needed to heal. I know I wasn’t ready either. But I want to be.. I’m learning. I’m trying. I’m done pretending it was always their fault.

Guess I’m the Problem..

Collateral Damage..When Moving On Becomes Warfare

I Don’t Date Fuckboys.. Just The Almost ones.