Doors. They’re the great equalizers. They don’t care who’s on the other side—friends, foes, or someone who can’t seem to decide which they are. A door is a test, a challenge. It asks one simple question: Are you worthy of coming in? And if someone already walked out once, you’ve got every right to let that door stay shut.

When they walked away, it wasn’t a mistake—it was a decision. A calculated move. They decided their odds were better elsewhere, that whatever you were offering wasn’t enough. Fine. Let them go. They were dead weight anyway, holding you back while you were busy building something stronger, smarter, sharper.

But people, much like vampires, have a funny way of showing up again when they’re desperate. They knock, sweet-talk, and act like they’ve seen the light. But you know why vampires ask to come in, don’t you? It’s because they can’t just barge through the door. They need your permission—your invitation—so they can suck you dry. And don’t fool yourself; some people are exactly the same. They’re not coming back to help you thrive. They’re coming back because they’ve run out of other options, and they see you as an easy mark.

This is where you need to get tough. Keeping the door closed isn’t just about protecting what’s inside—it’s about protecting you. Loyalty starts at home, with yourself. When they left, they made a choice. Now it’s your turn. You don’t owe them a damn thing—especially not a second chance to drain your energy, time, or resources.

Let them stand outside. Let them knock until their knuckles bleed. That closed door is a message: I’m not your safety net. I’m not the backup plan. I’m the one who thrives without you. And if they don’t knock? Good. You’ve dodged a bullet. Open a new door for someone who sees your worth from the start—someone who doesn’t need to lose you to appreciate you.

Now, let’s say you get soft. Let’s say you crack that door open. If you do, here’s the rule: they’re a guest. Not a resident, not a partner, not someone who gets to move back in and redecorate. A guest. You keep it clear and temporary. Why? Because someone who left once already showed you their true nature. And trust me, they’re more likely to repeat history than rewrite it.

Vampires don’t stop being vampires just because they look pitiful at your doorstep. People don’t stop being takers just because they need you now. So, even if you let them in, you don’t hand them the keys. You don’t give them free rein to wander through your life, rearranging the furniture and acting like they own the place.

The power of a closed door is knowing it’s your door. You decide who gets in, how long they stay, and how much of your space they’re allowed to occupy. It’s not just about boundaries—it’s about strength. It’s about showing the world, and yourself, that you’re no one’s victim.

So, when that knock comes—and it will—remember who you are. You’re the one in control. You’re the one who decides. And most importantly, you’re the one who doesn’t let vampires, or anyone else, suck you dry.