This is wisdom rubbing up against identity, the kind that comes only after years of believing strength meant staying and loyalty meant endurance. I wrote this as a journal entry, then realized it didn’t belong in the dark margins of a notebook; it deserved daylight.

Some people are chapters, not characters meant to stay for the entire story.

I didn’t learn this quickly. I learned it slowly, through the sum of my experiences: years of going the distance, holding on longer than necessary, and mistaking perseverance for love. Time, not theory, taught me this. They were there for a reason, a season, or a version of me that no longer exists. And when that version ends, so does the connection… not dramatically or cruelly, just honestly.

Not everyone deserves lifetime access.

Turning the corner into fifty-two years lived, I can finally see the pattern clearly. I’ve always believed that walking away was a sign of weakness, that leaving meant I hadn’t tried hard enough, and that strength was measured by how much I could carry and how long I could endure.

I can go the distance. I always have; that was never the question. But distance without alignment is not devotion … it’s depletion. My stubbornness kept me circling back, trying to reconcile what was already complete. I questioned myself, wondering what I needed to fix or soften.

Until it became clear: this wasn’t a reckoning that required action. It was an acceptance of what I already knew, and it was never aligned with them being part of my whole story.

Growth requires space. Sometimes that space is created not by adding more but by allowing people to leave your life without rewriting the ending or questioning the truth of what was.

What once mattered doesn’t have to follow me forward to prove it was real. It was. And that’s enough. Strength isn’t about staying at all costs. Strength is knowing when something has finished and letting it go to be complete.

What’s meant for me will rise with me. What’s not will fall away. And I no longer confuse distance with loss. Sometimes, it’s simply wisdom catching up with time.