📖 WHEN MY TURN COMES
By Aishah Raheel
🕯️ Prologue — Remember
When my turn comes, you all should also have a big heart.
I carry echoes of everything — not loud, not visible, but stitched quietly into my being.
Smiles I gave were answered with silence. Loyalty met with distance. Softness treated like it meant nothing.
I buried my reactions beneath patience and quiet strength. Let time hold what I chose not to return.
But memories don't fade. They settle. They deepen. They wait.
And somewhere between healing and becoming, I learned the weight of what was given to me.
So when the moment shifts, when fate gently places the balance in my hands — and I stand where you once stood — remember…
Hearts don't suddenly grow stronger. They break the same way. They feel the same ache.
So when my turn comes, when silence speaks for me — make sure your hearts are wide enough to hold what you once placed in mine.
🌙 PART ONE — ECHOES I CARRY
(The quiet weight of what was given to me)
i. Smiles Answered With Silence
I gave you my warmth.
Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. Because your smile felt like home.
And you? You gave me nothing. Just quiet. Just space. Just the slow realization that I was talking to a wall that once had ears.
I stopped smiling eventually. Not because I forgot how. Because I learned — some people don't deserve to see it.
ii. Loyalty Met With Distance
I stood by you. When no one else did. When it was easier to walk away.
And when I needed you? When the silence on your end grew too loud?
You were gone. Not physically. But somewhere unreachable. Somewhere my loyalty couldn't follow.
I learned then — loyalty is not a contract. It's a gift. And some people don't know how to receive it.
iii. Softness Treated Like Nothing
I showed you my soft parts. The ones I keep hidden. The ones that bruise easily.
And you? You handled them like they were nothing. Like my heart was a toy you could pick up and put down whenever you wanted.
Softness is not weakness. It's courage. It's showing someone your underbelly and trusting them not to bite.
You bit.
And I stopped showing you anything.
iv. The Weight of What Was Given
I carried you.
Your moods. Your silences. Your unspoken expectations.
I carried them quietly. Without complaint. Without asking for anything in return.
But carrying is heavy. And one day, I realized — I was holding you up while you were busy tearing me down.
So I put you down.
Not with anger. With exhaustion.
And the weight I've been carrying ever since?
That's not yours anymore.
That's mine. And I'm learning to hold it differently.
🌑 PART TWO — WHAT SETTLED
(The memories that deepened while I waited)
v. Memories Don't Fade
They told me time heals everything.
They lied.
Time doesn't heal. It just... organizes. Puts things in drawers. Labels them. Stores them in places you don't visit every day.
But the memories are still there. Every smile. Every silence. Every moment I chose to stay when I should have left.
They don't fade.
They just wait.
vi. They Settle
Like dust on a shelf you forgot to clean.
Not loud. Not demanding. Just... present.
You go about your day, thinking you're fine, thinking you've moved on. And then something — a song, a smell, a name — kicks up all that dust.
And suddenly you're choking on everything you thought you'd buried.
They settle.
But they never leave.
vii. They Deepen
The more time passes, the more I understand.
Not forgive. Understand.
I understand that you didn't know how to hold me. That you were never taught. That the love I gave you was bigger than anything you'd ever seen.
That's not my fault.
And it's not my job to teach you.
But the understanding deepens. Like roots. Like scars. Like something that becomes part of the landscape.
I am different now because of what you did.
And that difference? It's not bad.
It's just... deeper.
viii. They Wait
For what? I don't know.
For me to break again? For me to forget? For me to finally become the person who doesn't care?
The memories wait. Patient. Silent.
And sometimes — when I'm alone, when the world is quiet, when there's nothing left to distract me — they speak.
Not loud. Just a whisper.
Remember? This happened. This hurt. This changed you.
I don't fight them anymore.
I just listen.
And then I keep moving.
🌅 PART THREE — BETWEEN HEALING AND BECOMING
(Where I learned the truth)
ix. Healing Is Not Forgetting
I thought healing meant I wouldn't feel it anymore.
I was wrong.
Healing means you feel it — and you survive it. You feel it and you don't fall apart. You feel it and you keep going.
The wound closes. But the scar stays.
And that's not failure.
That's just what healing looks like when the wound was deep.
x. Becoming Is Not Revenge
I didn't become this person to spite you.
I became this person because I had to.
Because the person I was before — the one who smiled when you ignored her, who stayed when you left, who gave when you took — that person was dying.
And I had to become someone else to survive.
Not harder. Not colder. Just... clearer.
Clear about what I deserve. Clear about what I won't accept. Clear about who gets my softness.
That's not revenge.
That's becoming.
xi. The Weight I Learned to Carry
It's not yours anymore.
The weight of your silence. Your distance. Your inability to love me the way I needed.
I put it down.
And picked up something else.
The weight of my own worth. The weight of my own voice. The weight of knowing — I deserved better, and I'm not settling for less anymore.
This weight? It's not heavy.
It's grounding.
xii. What I Know Now
I know now that you didn't break me.
You showed me where I was already broken.
And that's a gift I didn't ask for but needed.
I know now that I am not too much. I was just too much for you.
And that's fine.
Because somewhere out there, there's someone who will hold what I give. Who won't treat my softness like nothing. Who will answer my smile with their own.
But until then?
I am enough. For myself.
And that's the only thing that matters.
🕊️ PART FOUR — WHEN MY TURN COMES
(The moment the balance shifts)
xiii. The Shift
One day — not today, not tomorrow, but someday — the balance will shift.
The silence you gave me will become your own. The distance you created will become your reality. The softness you treated like nothing will be something you're begging for.
And I won't be there.
Not because I'm cruel. Because I learned — I can't keep showing up for people who never showed up for me.
When my turn comes, I won't even be watching.
I'll be living. Fully. Quietly. Free.
xiv. Where You Once Stood
One day, you'll understand.
Not because I explain it. Because you'll feel it. You'll give your heart to someone who treats it carelessly. You'll smile and receive silence. You'll stay when you should leave.
And in that moment — when the ache is fresh and the weight is heavy — you'll remember.
You'll remember me.
And you'll finally understand what you did.
xv. Hearts Don't Suddenly Grow Stronger
They don't.
Hearts break the same way they always have. They ache. They crack. They feel everything.
No one gets a stronger heart just because they hurt someone else.
When your heart breaks — and it will — it will feel exactly like mine did.
Not worse. Not better. The same.
Because hearts don't learn from other people's pain.
They only learn from their own.
xvi. The Big Heart You'll Need
So when my turn comes — when silence speaks for me, when distance becomes my answer, when I stop showing up the way I used to —
Make sure your heart is wide enough.
Wide enough to hold what you once placed in mine.
Wide enough to understand what you did.
Wide enough to finally feel the weight of everything I carried alone.
Because I won't explain it to you.
The silence will.
And I hope — for your sake — you're ready to hear it.
🕯️ Epilogue — The Balance
I don't wish you pain.
I don't wait for your fall.
I just know — what goes around doesn't always come around quickly. But it comes.
And when it does?
I won't be there to catch you.
Not because I'm angry.
Because I'm finally taking care of myself.
And that means — letting you face what you created.
Alone.
The way you left me.
THE END.