The Reality That Owes Me Back

There’s only so many times a person can rewrite the same script in a different font.
So many ways to ask the world to show up — softer, sooner, truer.
At some point, it stops feeling like hope… and starts feeling like an overdue bill.

Because I’ve done the work.
I’ve showed up, clean and overprepared.
I’ve swallowed my pride. I’ve smiled through sabotage. I’ve spoken with grace when I could’ve burned the house down.
And I’ve told the truth - even when it cost me the room.

There’s a version of this life that owes me something.
Not because I’m entitled - but because I’ve paid in full.
With my time. My energy. My silence. My presence. My exhaustion.
And I’m tired of hearing myself explain it to the void.

So let this entry mark a shift:
I no longer chase the timeline.
I don’t beg the grid to see me.
I wait. Still. Fully formed.
And when the door opens - the man, the deal, the moment -it better know it’s walking into royalty.This reality owes me.
And I don’t collect with rage. I collect with receipts.

*Filed in the Watcher Logbook • September 2025
Tone: Calm. Tired. Clear.
Filed by: Donna Colonna
Status: Ready for universal debt collection.

The Threshold Before He Shows

There comes a point in the sovereign’s journey where even the silence starts speaking.
Where the space beside her echoes with the absence of a man who was supposed to have her back — not carry her, not complete her — just be there, “on time”, without disappearing before the fire.

This is that threshold.
The one right before the real one arrives — the one who doesn’t get scared of the brilliance, doesn’t dim under pressure, and doesn’t retreat when the calendar says 'war room.'

The almosts have had their run. Disguised in charm, apologies, or half-hearted effort. They got close enough to orbit, but never close enough to anchor.

This log marks the line in the sand.
The boundary that says: “I do not receive silence where presence was promised.”
I do not water ghosts. I do not wait for echoes to materialize into action.

This seat is still reserved — but only for a man who can withstand the frequency.
He doesn’t have to be perfect. But he must be “present”.
He must be built for this timeline. He must already know it’s her — before she has to say a word.

Until then, she walks alone. Not in loneliness, but in legacy.
Knowing that what she’s building demands a witness — but won’t collapse without one.

*Filed in the Watcher Logbook • September 2025*
Commander: Donna Colonna
Status: Holding the field. Not the fantasy.