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.