I’m a Full Course Meal, Not Just Dessert

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I slammed the door so hard the pictures rattled on the walls. Fuck him and his half-assed excuses.

I’m done being an afterthought, a convenient option when he’s bored or lonely.

For too long, I’ve been settling for scraps of affection, convincing myself it was enough. It’s not. It never was.

I’m a goddamn five-course gourmet meal, not some stale leftovers you reheat when there’s nothing else in the fridge.

My time, my energy, my love – they’re precious. They’re not to be wasted on someone who can’t even be bothered to show up on time for a date.

I’ve spent years dimming my light, shrinking myself to fit into someone else’s narrow expectations. No more.

I’m done apologizing for my ambitions, for my dreams that stretch beyond the horizon. They’re not “too much” – they’re exactly who I am.

My passion isn’t something to be tamed or muted. It’s a fucking wildfire, and if you can’t handle the heat, step aside.

I’m not here to be your arm candy or your ego boost. I’m not a trophy to be displayed when it’s convenient and hidden away when it’s not.

I’m a whole person – complex, contradictory, and unapologetically real. Take all of me or take none of me.

For years, I’ve been told to be “nice,” to be “agreeable,” to not rock the boat. Well, guess what? I’m capsizing that whole damn ship.

I’m done with half-hearted commitments and lukewarm feelings. Either you’re all in, or you’re out. There’s no middle ground.

My worth isn’t determined by your attention or lack thereof. I’m valuable, period. Full stop. End of story.

I’m not waiting around for someone to “complete” me. I’m already whole, already enough, already fucking amazing.

If you can’t see that, if you can’t appreciate the feast laid out before you, that’s your loss. I’m not here to convince you of my worth.

I’m done with the games, the mixed signals, the breadcrumbing. I deserve clear intentions and consistent actions.

I’m not a puzzle for you to solve or a project for you to fix. I’m a masterpiece, already complete and breathtaking.

My independence isn’t a challenge to your masculinity. It’s a testament to my strength, my resilience, my unwavering spirit.

I’m not here to stroke your ego or nurse your insecurities. I’m here to be a partner, an equal, a force to be reckoned with.

If that scares you, if that makes you uncomfortable, good. Growth happens outside of comfort zones.

I’m done shrinking myself to make others feel bigger. I’m stretching, expanding, taking up all the space I damn well deserve.

My opinions, my thoughts, my feelings – they’re valid. They don’t need your approval or understanding to exist.

I’m not asking for permission to be myself anymore. I’m claiming it, owning it, reveling in it.

My body, my choices, my life – they’re mine to control. Your judgment, your expectations, your outdated ideas can take a hike.

I’m not here to fulfill your fantasies or fit into your narrow definition of womanhood. I’m here to shatter stereotypes and redefine possibilities.

My success isn’t a threat. It’s an invitation to rise up, to match my energy, to bring your A-game.

I’m done with half-hearted compliments and backhanded praise. Recognize my brilliance or keep your mouth shut.

I’m not your manic pixie dream girl, your savior, or your therapist. I’m a real person with my own needs, desires, and boundaries.

If you can’t handle my worst days, you don’t deserve my best. I’m human, with flaws and fears and moments of doubt.

But I’m also resilient, powerful, and unstoppable. I’ve weathered storms that would have broken lesser spirits.

I’m done apologizing for taking up space, for having needs, for demanding respect. These aren’t luxuries – they’re necessities.

I’m not asking for the world. I’m asking for what I deserve – honesty, respect, and genuine connection.

If that’s too much to ask, if that’s more than you’re willing to give, then hit the road. I’d rather be alone than settle for crumbs.

Because I know my worth. I know what I bring to the table. And baby, it’s a feast fit for royalty.

So either come correct or don’t come at all. I’m done with half-measures and almost-good-enoughs.

I’m a full course meal, a symphony of flavors, a riot of textures and tastes. And I won’t be reduced to just dessert.

I’m here, I’m whole, and I’m fucking fabulous. Take it or leave it, but don’t you dare try to change it.

This is me, in all my glory, in all my mess, in all my beautiful complexity. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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