The old Shenequa would’ve written a script, filled with hyperboles, alliteration and a few sprinkled in f*ck you’s s to let my old flame know wasting my time wasn’t acceptable. But I realized all force really came from a place of hurt. I allowed myself to get hopeful and when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted, I attacked.
Now, I’ve learned silence is golden. A no-text back is just as powerful, if not more powerful than a “die in a fire, d*ckhead.” I used to take it as my personal responsibility to tell guys why they messed up, why I was mad, or why they received my backlash. Now, it’s like for what? If a man really wants to know, he’ll ask, or better yet, he won’t mess up.
I’m fiery and feisty and have no problem speaking up for myself, but as a lioness, I’ve realized I’m just as powerful when I’m not letting out my thunderous roar.
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