Public Announcement from the Goddess of Heartbreak, Vol. I

To whoever’s taking notes on how not to love a goddess.

This is a public notice, since private words never seemed to land.

I wish you could have seen what I meant beneath the words. It wasn’t an accusation. It was me trying to connect, trying to be honest without it turning into something defensive. But the moment I shared how I felt, you treated it like a threat. You started explaining yourself, defending things that weren’t even the reason I felt that way, missing the part where I wasn’t trying to argue, I was trying to be understood.

You have no idea how frustrating that is. Watching you double down on the wrong thing, trying to prove you’re not the bad guy when I never said you were. I wasn’t keeping score. I wasn’t looking for blame. I just wanted to talk like two people who actually cared about getting it right.

When something bothered you, I always listened. I tried to understand, I reassured you, I adjusted. Not because I was guilty, but because that’s what you do when you care about someone’s peace. I just wanted that same consideration. You could have matched the softness that was already being offered to you. That’s all I ever needed. But instead, you dug in, more worried about not being wrong than about actually seeing me.

And that’s what hurt. Not the moment itself, but how quickly you made it about being right instead of being close. I didn’t need explanations; I needed empathy. I wanted you to hear me, to help me fix it with you, not against you.

It’s exhausting, loving someone who listens for attack instead of meaning. I wasn’t angry, I was lonely. My words were never weapons, they were invitations, chances to meet me in the middle before the distance became permanent.

But you never did. You just kept explaining yourself to problems I wasn’t trying to solve, until the whole thing became noise. And I got tired. Tired of bleeding understanding into someone who only knew how to defend himself from love.

Still, I meant every word, even the ones you didn’t hear right. The distance I was trying to close became the very path that led us here, a quiet self-fulfilling prophecy of everything I was afraid would happen.