The Quiet Exit

I’ve taught myself to listen differently.

See, some people speak in plans,

while others talk in patterns.

And I’ve stopped confusing movement for progress.

When there are no receipts to back up all that talking,

I check out.

No tea, no shade—

just peace where your excuses used to be.

And I stopped announcing my departure from still circles.

I just go.

Quietly.

Intentionally.

The way people who mean it do.

Why should I coerce growth?

Or argue with potential that never shows up?

If your vision is real, it’ll reveal itself.

And if it’s not, time will tell the truth for me.

I can send love from the journey,

but I won’t lose direction for company.

Not for hesitation.

Not for comfort.

Not for anyone who confuses talking about it

with doing something about it.

Because at some point,

you learn-

accountability doesn’t bring pressure,

it brings peace.

I’ve realized that integrity

isn’t loud.

It’s quiet.

Steady.

rooted in follow-through.

So I move a little different now.

Not because I’m arrogant,

but because I’m aligned.

No smoke.

No drama.

Just distance.

And direction.

Because motion — real motion —

always speaks louder

than any mouth ever will.

P’s Reflection:

I wrote this piece sitting in the school pickup line one afternoon, replaying the patterns of friendships in my life that once meant everything but had dwindled down to the occasional check in. Those friendships felt solid and whole until growth started showing up in different directions. There’s a certain ache that comes with realizing you can love people deeply and still have to leave them where they are. Not from a place of pride — but peace.

The Quiet Exit came from that space...

that quiet moment when you understand some connections can’t travel where you’re headed, and that’s okay. You can still love people from afar — and continue to choose alignment over attachment.