You Don’t Have To Pretend With Me

I never needed the coastal house.

Or the jet quietly registered in a name that’s not yours but still surrounds you.

Or the kind of quiet wealth that lingers in the background of your life — known, but never flaunted.

None of that ever mattered to me.

Not because it isn’t impressive, but because you were always the part I was drawn to.

The you behind the expectations. Behind the legacy. Behind the pressure to be something more, even when you already were.

You don’t have to downplay things with me.

You don’t have to act like you’re indifferent or unaffected, like you’re still trying to figure out your place in a world that was handed to you in pieces.

You don’t have to pretend to be smaller than the man you’ve always been becoming.

Not with me.

Because I saw you before any of this took shape.

Before the careful distancing, the self-development era, the reinvention.

I saw the you who talked about depth, about purpose, about wanting to matter. Not for status, but for meaning.

And if you ever wonder what I saw in you,

It wasn’t the name. Or the network. Or the potential.

It was the hesitation when you were vulnerable.

The sincerity when you were unsure.

The warmth you showed when you thought no one noticed.

And maybe that’s why I still pray your name.

Not because of what you have.

But because of who you are — when no one’s watching