To P. "The Mirror You Never Looked Into"

P.,

You have always had something to say about me.

About how I lived.
About how I struggled.
About how I wasn't good enough, or strong enough, or whatever enough to meet the invisible standard you decided I should live by.

You made yourself judge, jury, and executioner of my life without ever once bothering to live a day in my shoes.

It was easy for you, wasn't it?
To stand on the sidelines and throw stones at someone who was already bloodied and limping.
To critique my choices from your pedestal without offering a single outstretched hand.

You never asked what it was like.
You never stayed up with me when the world fell apart.
You never paid the bills.
You never picked up the pieces.

You say you know better.
I say you know easier.

You think being critical made you superior.
I think it made you smaller.

I spent so much of my life shrinking myself, trying not to give you more ammunition, trying not to let your words break me down further than life already had.

But here’s the truth you’ll never admit:
Your criticism says more about your own insecurities than it ever said about my failures.

I survived things you’ll never understand.
I carried weights you never even tried to lift.
I kept going while you stood still, pointing fingers.

And now?
I don't need your approval.
I don't crave your understanding.
I don't even really want your apology anymore.

I just want you to know; you were never the mirror I measured myself against.

I built myself despite you.
I survived without your permission.
I grew in the cracks where you said I never would.

And today, I stand stronger; not because of your criticisms, but because I finally stopped listening to them.