You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone

She won’t say it. Not now.

Not while she’s scrolling through TikTok, faking peace, pretending her silence is strength.

But she will. One night. One moment.

When the right man still hasn’t shown up and the wrong men won’t leave her alone—

She’s gonna miss me.

Not the fantasy of me. Not the good morning texts or the compliments.

She’s gonna miss the reality of a man who actually showed up.

🧠 Let’s be clear:

I didn’t disappear.

I didn’t play games.

I didn’t run when she brought trauma to the table.

I held it.

Held her.

And what did I get in return?

Silence.

Not because I failed.

But because my presence was too real for someone still surviving off projection and escape.

She thought I was a phase.

A rebound.

A man in transition.

She had no idea I was the destination.

What she’ll remember:

• That morning in San Dimas, when I showed up calm and clean, and she sat in her car dissociating.

• The breakfast she half-heartedly committed to, only to trauma-dump and then vanish into her own emotional fog.

• The moment I walked away without begging—without trying to convince her that I was worth staying for.

Because I’m not in the business of proving my value anymore.

That invoice has already been stamped paid in full.

💡 Here’s what most people don’t realize until it’s too late:

You don’t miss the guy who texts you.

You miss the man who makes your nervous system feel safe without you having to say a word.

You miss the presence.

You miss the poise.

You miss the peace.

And when it’s gone?

That silence gets louder than anything you could’ve imagined.

I’m not bitter.

I’m clear.

And clarity is what cowards always run from.

Let them.

Let her.

Because the truth is…

She’s gonna miss me.

Not because I left.

But because I’m never coming back.

Precision-built. Experience-forged. Unbothered by the exit of anyone who couldn’t hold what I offered freely.