🕊️ The Cost of a Lie: A Love Letter to Accountability

“Honesty is free, lies gon’ cost you later.”

Let’s sit with that for a second.

Because that bill? It always comes due. And baby, it don’t take Apple Pay.

We often talk about heartbreak in the context of what someone did.

But what about the why?

• Why lie when the truth was an option?

• Why say “I love you” while simultaneously entertaining someone else?

• Why act present when your heart packed up months ago?

At this big age, I’m realizing—lies aren’t always malicious.

Sometimes they’re just cowardly.

Other times, they’re born out of fear, insecurity, ego…

Or worse—comfort.

🧠 Let’s unpack this, though:

Lies often have nothing to do with the other person.

They’re about self-preservation, shame, and shadow work left undone.

People lie because it’s easier to pretend than to confront.

Easier to manipulate the narrative than sit in the mess they created.

Easier to blame you for being “too emotional” than admit they’re emotionally unavailable.

But here’s the gag—

Whether you lie to spare feelings or to save face,

The impact lands the same.

Because the truth always reveals itself.

Maybe not on your time.

But in God’s time? Oh, it’s coming with receipts.

💔 To the men who lied to protect me:

You didn’t.

You delayed the heartbreak and made it sharper.

To the men who said I was “too much”:

You weren’t ready for even a fraction of me.

And that’s not a fault—it’s a fact.

To the women reading this who’ve ever questioned their intuition:

You weren’t wrong.

You were just early.

What would it look like to choose honesty even when it’s uncomfortable?

To say, “I’m not ready,” instead of pretending you are?

To admit, “I still have healing to do,” before asking someone else to pour into you?

Honesty is liberation.

Lies? That’s a life sentence in denial.

Lying will cost you:

• Respect.

• Real connection.

• A chance at something rooted and real.

Truth may sting for a moment.

But lies? They scar.

If you ever loved someone—really loved them—don’t lie.

Because the truth might hurt.

But the lie? That’s the betrayal.

And betrayal never forgets your face.

💔 Kindred, But Not Compatible (Yet?)

We loved from different clocks.

One of us was ready. The other was reckless with timing.

And now?

Now, the roles are reversed—

Growth has shifted the landscape.

And the one who was always open? Is now guarded. Reserved.

Waiting not on apologies, but proof.

⏳ It Wasn’t That It Couldn’t Be—It Was That It Couldn’t Be Then

Sometimes what feels divine gets delayed—not denied—because the people involved need to rise to meet what the connection deserves.

And that’s the real heartbreak:

One person saw the full picture early. The other? Was still learning how to hold the brush.

So now the dynamic is flipped:

• The one who once offered softness now needs to see strength.

• The one who once gave grace now needs guardrails.

• The one who waited? Ain’t waiting no more… but they’re watching.

✨ The New Chapter Requires New Proof

You don’t un-love someone overnight.

You don’t erase kindred energy with logic.

But you do learn how to love yourself more.

So if they circle back?

It’s not about cute words or nostalgia-laced memories.

It’s:

• Can you show me healed behavior?

• Can you carry love with responsibility now?

• Can your actions prove that your growth wasn’t just for you—but for us?

The Window and The Well: When Love Isn’t Enough to Heal You 🧡

My heart was crying for a soul that couldn’t see the world outside of his window.

My soul was aching for peace from the world that could only be provided from within.

Two sentences.

But when I read them back, I realize—I wasn’t just writing about heartbreak.

I was writing about awakening.

There’s something soul-crushing about loving someone who refuses to look up.

Someone who watches life from the sidelines,

who dreams in theory but never applies it in real life.

Who keeps the blinds closed and calls it safety—

while you’re out here praying for vision, for movement, for more.

And still…

you try to love them through it.

You shrink your light so it doesn’t blind them.

You quiet your joy so they don’t feel triggered.

You sit beside them, at their window,

hoping your presence will inspire them to open it.

But after a while—your oxygen gets low.

And you realize…

you can’t save someone who’s decided they don’t want to be free.

That’s when the ache shifts.

That’s when it moves from your heart

to your soul.

Because while your heart was begging to be seen,

your soul?

Your soul was screaming for peace.

Not the peace that comes from having someone next to you—

but the kind you earn

when you finally stop abandoning yourself

in the name of love.

I used to think I needed someone to pour into me.

To tell me I was worthy.

To hold me when I couldn’t hold myself.

But I’ve learned:

Peace is an inside job.

No one can hand it to you.

No relationship can create it for you.

And no man—no matter how charming or broken—

can complete you

if you haven’t first reclaimed the parts of yourself you gave away.

It hurts.

God, it hurts.

To watch someone you love

choose fear.

Choose passivity.

Choose the window

when you were ready to walk into the world together.

But sometimes, love is not enough.

Sometimes love asks you to leave—

so that you can finally meet the version of yourself

who doesn’t need to beg for reciprocity.

So here I am.

No longer waiting at the window.

No longer pleading for eye contact through the glass.

No longer explaining how to love me to someone

who only loved my effort—not my essence.

I’ve turned inward.

I’ve gone to the well.

The one where God waits with living water.

Where healing whispers back when you’re finally quiet enough to listen.

Where peace doesn’t have conditions.

It just is.

If you’re reading this and it resonates,

know this:

You are not crazy for outgrowing a connection you thought would last.

You are not wrong for wanting to be chosen—fully, loudly, without hesitation.

You are not asking for too much.

You’re asking the wrong person.

Let them keep the window.

You’ve got a whole world to explore.

🕊️ Reflection Journal Prompt:

Where in your life have you been sitting at the window, waiting? And what would it look like to walk away and draw from the well within?

🌿 Affirmations:

• I release what no longer reflects who I’m becoming.

• I trust myself to know when it’s time to walk away.

• I choose peace, even if it comes wrapped in solitude.

• I am worthy of a love that matches my depth.

• I no longer beg to be seen. I see myself—clearly.