the guilt of leaving a version of you others still love

There’s a version of me I outgrew quietly.

She was always available.
Always agreeable.
Always the one who stayed — even when her heart was already gone.

And people loved her.

Not because she was fake,
but because she made it easy.

Easy to rely on.
Easy to understand.
Easy to expect.

She didn’t rock the boat.
She didn’t ask for much.
She kept the peace, even when it hurt.

So when I stopped showing up that way…
some people didn’t say “I’m proud of you.”

They pulled away.
They got confused.
They missed the version of me
who never said no.

And I felt guilty.

For leaving her behind.
For becoming someone less convenient.

But that guilt?
It wasn’t truth.

It was grief.

Not everyone will clap for your evolution.
Especially the ones who benefited from your silence.

But you don’t owe anyone the version of you
that kept you small just so they could stay comfortable.

Let them miss her.

You’re not her anymore.

And that’s how you know it’s working.

✧ quiet prompt:

Who are you afraid of disappointing if you stop shrinking?
What version of you do they still love — even if you’ve already left her?