Life, for all its nuances and complexities, has one simple truth: people are creatures of their choices. Every action, every word, and every mistake is a reflection of conscious decisions, not fleeting accidents. Over the years, I've come to embrace an unyielding principle: I never give second chances. This might sound harsh, perhaps even cold, but let me explain why this approach has become my shield and sword in navigating human behavior.

Mental Notes: A Personal Ledger

Every interaction leaves an imprint, a mental note on me. When someone acts in a way that hurts, betrays, or disrespects me, I take stock of it—not the apology, not the excuses, but the act itself. An apology is not a reset button; it’s a confirmation of guilt. The very act of saying, "I’m sorry," is an admission that someone knew better but chose the opposite. My mental notes aren’t born from grudges or revenge; they stem from clarity. If someone shows me their true colors, it’s not my responsibility to hope they’ll paint a prettier picture next time.

The Illusion of Innocent Mistakes

Many claim their harmful actions are “unintentional” or born out of the heat of the moment. But here’s my take: every adult is aware of their capabilities and limitations. Whether it’s breaking a promise, uttering a lie, or displaying aggression, these behaviors are not accidents; they are choices. A moment of anger doesn’t justify harm, and a broken promise doesn’t restore trust. To believe otherwise is to invite a cycle of repeated disappointment.

Aggression: The Unforgivable Trait

Aggression is perhaps the most glaring red flag. It’s not something you can rationalize or sweep under the rug with sweet words of contrition. I’ve learned that aggression—whether physical, verbal, or emotional—is rarely a one-time event. Those who lash out once will do so again, no matter how fervently they swear otherwise. It’s not a question of “if” but “when.” Aggression is a negative trait that cannot be undone with promises or time. Once it’s directed at me, the door is closed. Permanently.

Apologies: A Double-Edged Sword

Many submissive men, particularly those drawn to the dynamic I write about, seem to derive some twisted catharsis from apologizing. They pour their regret into elaborate words, but in doing so, they unwittingly expose their flaws. When you apologize, you confirm your wrong. And when you confirm your wrong, I take my mental note. Apologies don’t impress me; they merely sharpen my awareness. I don’t care for promises of improvement or claims of spontaneity. The damage is done, and trust—fragile as it is—cannot be rebuilt.

A Lesson in Restraint

To those who may cross paths with me, my advice is simple: think before you act. Consider the consequences before you let your anger, impatience, or weakness take control. Before you lash out, think of the hand that feeds you. Before you lie, think of the well you drink from. Once trust is broken, there is no repairing it.

For those who find this uncompromising, I say this: life is too short to collect scars from the same hands that caused the wounds. My boundaries are not walls to keep others out; they are gates to protect the peace I’ve cultivated. If you’ve wronged me, you’re out—not out of malice, but out of self-respect.

So to those who falter and expect a second chance, I offer none. Not because I am cruel, but because I am resolute.

Elara Stone
(Author)