blocking my entire family felt fucking incredible.

seriously.
sometimes i forget i even did it—
until i remember how stupid i used to feel
waiting for a text.
a crumb.
a half-assed “how are you?”
from people who’ve never once shown up when it mattered.

yo. you would not notice,
or fucking care
if i were
on fire
by the side of the street
as you drove by.

i know that for a fact.

blocking isn’t anger.
it’s refusal.
refusal to keep circling the drain of people
who only remember i exist when it’s convenient or performative.

no, i don’t want your “thinking of you” text.
i don’t want your pity emoji or your once-a-year “what’s up”

i want nothing,
and blocking is the only way to get that clean.

i’ve blocked my whole family.
i’ve blocked like 13 dudes from bumble in 4 weeks.
i block and unblock my exes like a petty little godspeed ritual.
ask your question, get your answer, goodbye again.

because the second you’re blocked,
you don’t even get to pretend anymore.
you’re not “checking in.”
you’re not “still there.”
you’re erased.

and me?
i’m finally free to stop loving people
who wouldn’t notice if i died.