Redirected, Not Rejected

 A dude once told me…

my most “authentic flex” was that
I had the heart of a soldier,
the loyalty of a Saint,
and the power to leave
people, things, and places
better than I found them.

He said when a “real man”
recognizes that kind of beauty in me
and snatches me up
he’d be sick with grief—
like I was something to be claimed
before I ever even belonged to myself.

He thought it was a compliment.

But what I heard
was a man already rehearsing loss
because he knew he couldn’t meet me
where I actually stood.

So I didn’t argue.
I didn’t explain.
I just observed.

And that kind of clarity?
It changes how you move.

So I fell back—

not back into anything…
just out of reach.

Off the grid.

Because at this big age in my life—
what you not gonna do
is stand in my presence casually
while treating my time like it’s infinite.

My birthdays are adding up.
My discernment is too.

And I don’t confuse attention 

for intention anymore.

Listen—
I didn’t leave because I was empty.
I left because I’m full…
and I refuse to pour into what doesn’t pour back.

Bowing out gracefully isn’t a setback.
It’s precision.
It’s self-respect with its spine straight.

And let me be clear—

Closed doors don’t break me anymore.

They expose things that 

were never aligned enough
to walk with me in the first place.

So if I disappear,
don’t call it loss.

Call it correction.

Call it alignment.

Call it what it is:

I didn’t get overlooked—

I got redirected!

And what can’t recognize me
doesn’t get a “second chance” 

to mishandle me.

So, nah…

ain’t no spinning the block

on this side of town.

All random calls get blocked & 

routed straight to voicemail.