The Crown Jewel
By Faarouq Christian
You ever let something go not because you wanted to, but because your hands finally got honest?
Like a kite slipping its string mid-sky.
Like a ballon that refuses to stay tied to a wrist that doesn’t understand altitude.
Like a dove that doesn’t ask permission to leave, just lifts, circles once, and disappears into a direction you can’t argue with.
Yeah.. like that.
At first you call it loss. That’s the human in you. The part that still believes proximity equals possession.
But time passes, quietly, the way real things do and you start to notice something unsettling. Nothing vanished, it relocated. And somehow, it feels closer now than when it was in your hands.
That’s when it hit me.
Not loud.
Not cinematic.
Just a calm almost disrespectful level of clarity..
Access changed when I did.
Used to think access was something people earned. You show up. You prove yourself. You stay consistent. You become “Safe,” “Solid,” “Reliable.” You become available.
Then one day..
You look around and realize you built a VIP section for people who showed up in flip-flops.
No dress code.
No curation.
Just vibes and good intentions and lots of times, even those were negotiable.
The past version of myself frequently made the mistake of not guarding anything. Not my time. Not my attention. Not my softness.
Especially my softness.
I handed that out like fruits and canned beans at a food pantry. And people took it. Took advantage, or at least tried. Of course, they did.
Some even said thank you.
But nobody understood who I really am.. after all, why would they?
I didn’t.
See, the crown isn’t loud.
That’s the part people usually get wrong. They think royalty announces itself big entrances, loud declarations, visible power.
No.
Real crowns are heavy. They sit still. They don’t chase heads to belong on.. they wait.
And the Jewel?
The jewel doesn’t shine for attention. It reflects truth.
Pressure made it. Time refined it. Hands weren’t always gentle with it.
So it learned early:
Not everybody gets to hold me.
There was a version of me that didn’t understand that.
That version thought love meant access. Thought connection meant constant availability. Thought being “real” meant being reachable at all times, in all ways, for all people.
Safe to say the joke was on me..
The old me.
That version of me would answer the call even when the call felt.. off. Would respond to energy that didn’t match. Would sit in convo’s that felt like slow leaks.
Not overtly toxic enough to leave. Not fulfilling enough to stay.
Just there…
Lingering.
Like a hot air ballon drifting in the night sky. Still visible, still technically present just out of bounds.
And I stayed, way longer than I should have.
Cause’ leave in felt dramatic.
Cause’ detaching felt like ego.
Because I’d tell myself “this is how it goes sometimes.”
But nah, that wasn’t life. That was misalignment wearing patience.
What’s most important is that the shift ain’t come from anger.
Or heartbreak either.
It came from something quieter. Something spiritual. A moment where I realized I had been treating my own energy like it was renewable on demand.
Like I could just keep giving, showing up, pouring out without ever runnin’ dry.
But energy doesn’t work like that.
It remembers.
It keeps receipts in places you don’t check often. Your peace, your sleep, your reactions to small things. And one day without warning it callouses.
That’s when I changed.
Not in a loud “new me” way, no rebrand, not even a speech. Just.. edits. Subtle new lines to the script.
In this new script, I no longer explain things that are clear.
No longer offering depth to people committed to the surface.
No longer translating myself into languages that didn’t respect the original text.
If you knew how to reach me, you still could.
If you didn’t.. you felt it.
That’s when access started shifting. Not because I enforced it but because I embodied it. People who were used to walking in without knocking.. suddenly found doors closed.
Not locked. Just.. no longer automatic.
People who relied on my consistency started meeting my boundaries.
And many didn’t like that.
Not because I was wrong. But because it was unfamiliar.
They weren’t used to earning space with me. They were used to inheriting it.
Big difference.
You learn alot about people when access changes.
Some get curious. They adjust. They meet you where you are, with respect, with awareness.
Others?
They get distant. Not out of malice.. but because they were only compatible with the part of you that overextended.
And when that version disappeared. So did their ability to connect.
No hard feelings.. just clarity.
It’s funny, though.
Cuz’ from the outside, it looks like I’ve become “different” or as my peers where I’m from would say.. “brand new.”
Colder.
More reserved.
Less available.
But from the inside? I feel lighter.
Like that kite that finally broke free. Not lost. Just no longer controlled by hands that didn’t understand the wind.
Like that dove that didn’t leave to escape. But to return to its nature.
Like that ballon that rose out of reach.. only to reappear somewhere else, somewhere quieter, somewhere more aligned.
Still here.
Just not there.
That’s the part people struggle with..
They think distance means disappearance.
But distance is perspective doing its job.
You didn’t vanish.
You repositioned.
Closer to yourself.. further from what watered you down.
And now?
Now your presence feels different.
More intentional. More.. curated.
Not in a fake way. But in a valuable way.
Cuz’ value isn’t about rarity alone. It’s about recognition. And I finally realized something in myself I had been overlooking for a long time:
I am not easy access.
Not because I’m better than anyone.
But because I’m not for everyone.
And that’s not rejection. That’s design.
The crown found its head. The jewels found their setting. And suddenly everything made sense.
Why certain connections felt heavy. why certain convos drained me. Why certain people only showed up when I was overgiving..
They were just in alignment with a version of me that no longer exists.
Now?
If it’s forced, I let it fall. If it’s confusing, I let it drift. If it costs me peace, I let it go. No ceremony, no announcement, just release.
Like a string slipping from my fingers.. on purpose this time.
Cuz’ I trust something i didn’t trust before..
What’s meant to align with me.. Will find me again.
Not by accident. But by design. And when it does? It won’t need unlimited access. It’ll understand the value of presence.
So yeah..
Access changed when I did.
Not out of spite. Not out of fear. But out of respect.
For my energy. For my time. For my softness.
For the parts of me that were never meant to be public property.
There’s a certain kind of night that knows my name.
Low lights.
Silhouettes that don’t ask questions.
Energy that moves fast and forgets later.
Used to think that was freedom. Access without weight. Connection without consequence.
And maybe it is?
But now?
I can stand into without dissolving.. see it for what it offers.
And what it quietly takes.
Temptation doesn’t pull on me the same no-more. Not because it disappeared. But because I stopped confusing availability with alignment.
Everything that glows isn’t meant to be held. Some things are just there..
To see if you still reach.
And just to let you know if it still has..
A hold on you.
And if you ever feel like you lost something..
Like it drifted, floated, flew away from you
Don’t rush to chase it. Look at your hands first.
Ask yourself what you were holding and how you were holding it. Cuz’ sometimes.. it’s not gone. It just refused to stay where it wasn’t being valued. And somewhere far, but somehow still near..
It’s shining differently now.
Untouched.
Unrushed.
Unapologetic.
Like it finally understands what it is..
The Crown Jewel.
UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN
#ONELANE #STREETLOVE