I Thought I Was Different

I thought I was different.

The one who would finally make it make sense.

The one who would absolve him of past mistakes

and we would forge a new road together.

He told me I was—

the one he’d been wanting,

waiting for,

ready for.

And I believed it.

The way I felt in his arms was like

nothing I had experienced before.

And we said things to each other

that made it feel like destiny—

like all the roads before us

had been leading right here.

I thought I was the reason he’d change,

the reason he’d finally stay present,

the reason the story would end differently this time.

But it didn’t.

And here’s the truth I had to face—

I wasn’t the exception.

I was just next in a pattern

I didn’t yet understand.

And patterns don't change just because

you want them to.

Someone who loved him and had taken him back once said,

“I never saw it coming.”

Neither did I.

Because hope can sound a lot like truth

when you want to believe it.

But here’s what’s real now:

I can’t make someone different by being different.

What I can do

is end the pattern—

by seeing clearly,

walking away,

and refusing to let someone else’s choices

define the worth of my heart.

That’s what makes me different.