AlAnoud Writes

For years, I thought my strength was knowing when to leave,
To close the door behind me, and never turn or grieve.
To cut away the people who brought me too much pain,
And walk into tomorrow, untouched by them again.

I thought that letting go was courage, fierce and true,
That stepping on my heart was what the strong ones do.
If someone caused destruction, if someone crossed the line,
I could erase their presence and call the choice divine.

And yes, there are some people we simply must release,
Who take away your spirit, your dignity, your peace.
No love should ask you ever to suffer just to stay,
And some doors must be closed, then locked and walked away.

But age has taught me something I never understood:
That leaving isn’t always the hardest thing we could.
For cutting ties is simple when hurt becomes too great,
You make a single choice, and leave the rest to fate.

The harder thing is staying when someone matters still,
When flaws become a question of patience, love, and will.
To see them as they truly are, imperfect, yet sincere,
And choose to keep them close despite the things you fear.

To forgive the little things, to speak instead of flee,
To make a little room for their humanity.
To weather every storm without surrendering your ground,
And ask if what you cherish is worth another round.

Because if we leave each time that someone lets us down,
We’ll build a perfect kingdom where no one else is found.
No arguments, no heartbreak, no chaos at the door,
And no one there to love us, or to disappoint us more.

So maybe strength is not the door we’re brave enough to close,
Or how we walk away from every thorn that grows.
Perhaps the greater courage, the harder road to take,
Is staying through the turbulence for something worth the ache.

Not staying where you’re broken, or losing who you are,
But fighting for the people who have mattered from afar.
To know that love is messy, that people sometimes fail,
And still decide to mend it before you let it sail.

And sometimes, after trying, the ending still arrives.
Some people leave our stories, but remain within our lives.
Yet knowing that you tried before you finally depart
Is different from just leaving at the first crack in the heart.

So now I know the difference between leaving and being strong:
Sometimes walking out is right; sometimes staying is not wrong.
For cutting people off was never quite the test,

Sometimes the hardest thing
is staying for the rest.