Wishing someone the best is often a reflex. An easy ending. A polite bow. But sometimes, the truest thing you can say is nothing at all. Not because you’re bitter. Not because you haven’t healed. But because you’re done giving people soft exits from things they wrecked.
There are people I no longer speak to who still think they left on good terms. That’s the power of silence: it lets them keep their illusions. I don’t correct them. I don’t chase them down with footnotes. If they want to believe I’m the kind of person who wishes them well, let them.
I don’t wish them failure. I just don’t wish them anything. No happy endings, no karma narratives, no spiritual clauses that say I have to root for people who lost the right to my voice. There’s a freedom in opting out of the postscript.
Sometimes people treat your life like a season they binged and moved on from. But healing doesn’t require you to greenlight the sequel. You don’t have to become a cheerleader in their redemption arc just because they learned something from the damage they did to you.
Forgiveness is one thing. Closure is another. But endorsement? That’s not part of the package.
So no, I don’t wish you the best. I don’t wish you the worst, either. I wish you nothing at all.