Distance Over Disrespect

Every time I set a boundary and choose distance over disrespect, something interesting happens:

I realise that I’m more at peace with the silence than they are.

I can walk past them.
I don’t flinch.
I don’t engage.
And I don’t owe them anything.

But I wonder — do they feel the same?

---

The Mirror They Didn’t Ask For

Every time they see me, quiet and steady, I imagine it reflects something back to them.
A kind of mirror.

A reminder of why I went quiet.
A reminder of how they acted.
A reminder that I’m no longer available for it.

And if there’s even a flicker of self-awareness in them, I imagine there’s shame there — whether they admit it or not.

Because silence after mistreatment isn’t neutral.
It’s a verdict.
Not shouted, not argued — just quietly lived.

---

The Gift of Discomfort

Their discomfort isn’t something I take pleasure in.
But I no longer take responsibility for it, either.

It’s not my job to manage other people’s shame.
It’s not my role to fix the consequences of their choices.

I used to contort myself to avoid these moments — to keep the peace.
But that peace was fake.
It came at the cost of my own self-respect.

Now?
I choose distance.

---

Closing Thought

Distance over disrespect isn’t cold.
It’s clarity.

It’s not revenge.
It’s recovery.

And when silence speaks louder than confrontation ever could,
you don’t need to explain yourself.

You just keep walking.

---