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blog #8 - FFS

I keep thinking about how she used to look when she laughed. Head tilted back, eyes narrowed just enough to warn the world she wasn’t to be fucked with. She was strong — not in the empty, cliché way people throw that word around, but in the way storms are strong. The kind of woman who didn’t just survive the fire. She was the fire.

And then she fell in love.

I watched it happen. How the sharp edges she wore like armor softened. How she let someone touch the parts of her no one had ever been allowed near. And I thought… maybe this is what it’s supposed to look like. Maybe love really can be gentle.

But it wasn’t.
Love chipped away at her. Slowly. Quietly. Like rot under flawless paint.

And now she’s gone.

People keep telling me how beautiful it is that she loved that deeply. How lucky she was to have felt it. Fuck them. There’s nothing beautiful about watching someone who once set the world on fire fade into ashes because of it.

She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Until love turned her soft. Until love became the knife.

I’m not ready to forgive it.
Not love.
Not him.
Not the world that stood by and let it happen.

She deserved better than to die with her strength buried under someone else’s story.

FFS.

—Jade 🖤