Funny how quiet it gets when I stop giving. You don’t call unless you’re cornered, don’t knock unless you’re fucked. I was “family” when you needed cover, now I’m nothing when I’m stuck. You smiled wide with your hand out, never once asked how I stood. Every “you alright, brother?” came with strings I understood. I carried weight you couldn’t lift, kept my mouth shut, played my part. You fed off access, time, and trust then vanished when it got hard. I watched you laugh behind my back with the same lips that said my name. You don’t forget shit like that it stains. You don’t miss me. You miss the use. You miss the door I closed on you. Don’t say my name like it still means something. You burned that bridge when it stopped paying. I was there when it cost me everything you were gone when it cost you nothing. So keep that love, keep that fake concern. I see the pattern. I fucking learned. You were only here when you needed me. Now you’re dead weight I refuse to carry. You want loyalty without return, respect without earning a thing. You want my spine, my time, my blood but flinch when the phone rings. You call it “life got busy,” I call it selective care. Funny how you always had excuses but never fucking spare time to be there. I watched who stayed when I said “no.” That list got short real fast. Turns out most people love the version of you they can drain and fucking pass. You don’t get closure. You don’t get peace. You don’t get access back to me. Click,clock, look how you vanish when it’s inconvenient, mouth full of “brother” till the bill shows payment. You orbit success like a fucking condition, only show faith when it feeds your position. Handshake hollow, eyes never honest, every favor logged, every kindness audited. I kept you warm while you waited to leech, then you dipped when the mirror started sounding like me. I don’t miss you, I miss who I thought you were, turns out you were just a want with a voice and a nerve. You take and take till the well goes dry, then act surprised when I don’t reply. You call that distance? I call it control, I cut you off clean just to watch you fold. Every “where you been?” lands late as fuck, you weren’t lost, you just ran outta luck. I learned real quick who stayed for the climb and who just waited to borrow my time. You don’t get rage, you earned it slow, every time you ghosted when I needed hope. Now you want access, closure, peace? Nah, fuck that, you don’t get keys. I was quiet when I should’ve snapped, kept it civil while you stabbed my back, but patience rots when it’s overused, and I’m done being something you consume. This ain’t growth, this is amputation, cutting dead weight without explanation. Say my name now? Say it with space you lost that right when you showed your face. I don’t hate easy. I hate precise. I keep receipts. I don’t forgive twice. Don’t say my name like it still means something. You burned that bridge when it stopped paying. I was there when it cost me everything you were gone when it cost you nothing. So keep that love, keep that fake concern. I see the pattern. I fucking learned. You were only here when you needed me. Now you’re dead weight I refuse to carry. I gave too much to people who gave nothing back. I let leeches wear friend-shaped masks. That ends here. I DON’T OWE YOU SHIT. NOT TIME. NOT GRACE. NOT AN EXPLANATION FOR WALKING AWAY. You used my patience like a fucking resource, drained it dry, then asked for more. I’m done being the “solid one,” the one you call when your life implodes. Burn my number. Forget my face. You don’t get a seat in what I make. I’M NOT YOUR FALLBACK. I’M NOT YOUR FIX. I’M NOT YOUR FRIEND WHEN YOU’RE DESPERATE, BITCH. If you’re hearing this and you feel attacked good. That means I’m talking about you. And I meant every fucking word.
