I was always afraid of being inconvenient.

An inconvenient girl who asks unnecessary questions. An inconvenient daughter who disagrees with her parents. An inconvenient friend who talks about her feelings. I wanted everyone to feel at ease around me. To be loved for my gentleness, patience, and understanding.

So I often remained silent when I wanted to tell the truth. I agreed to meet up when I was tired. I smiled at people who hurt me. I pretended nothing terrible had happened when so much was happening.

At first, these seem like small things. But from these small things, someone else's life gradually emerges, in which you are simply present.

I realized this especially clearly after one relationship. The man made decisions for both of us: when we'd see each other, where we'd go, what was most convenient. He wasn't a bad person. He'd simply gotten used to me not objecting. And I'd taught him this with my silence.

At some point, I looked at myself from the outside and realized: I'm not living, I'm constantly adapting.

It's a terrible feeling to notice that you're almost absent from my life.

After that, I began to change. Slowly, awkwardly, with a sense of guilt. I learned to say: No, this isn't right for me. No, I'm tired. No, your words hurt me. Yes, I want it different.

Some people disappeared immediately. Because they liked the old version of me quiet and comfortable. But others appeared. Those who know how to respect boundaries and listen to others' desires.

Now I understand: a woman who has ceased to be infinitely convenient for others is often called inconvenient.

And to be honest, I feel much more comfortable living this way. Because for the first time in a long time, I'm not giving myself up for someone else's comfort.