Unsent Chapters

It wasn’t.

The hardest part was realizing I’d spent so long begging to be loved that I forgot what it felt like to be wanted.

So I walked away.

Not because it stopped hurting.

Because staying was teaching me that I deserved to hurt.

The door didn’t lock behind me.

I hate what you did to me. I hate the way you still haunt my quiet moments. I hate that no matter how much I try to bury you, you always find your way back into my thoughts.

Maybe I don’t hate you.

maybe some people are only meant to teach us what forever would have felt like if the world had been kinder.

because i loved you.

not in the loud, cinematic way people write about.

i loved you in the quiet places—in the pauses between conversations, in the way i remembered the smallest things about you, in every version of tomorrow where i couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t have your name in it.

and then one day i realized i was mourning someone who was still standing in front of me.

the light hadn’t gone out all at once.

it dimmed so slowly that i kept convincing myself my eyes would adjust.

they never did.

so i left carrying every “what if” like a pocket full of stones, praying that one day they would stop feeling so heavy.

if there is another lifetime, i hope we meet before the silence finds us.

or maybe after we’ve both learned that love isn’t measured by who stays—

I’m still angry.

I don’t know if you were taken from me or if you were simply too tired to keep fighting. Either way, it wasn’t fair.

You left too soon, and I’m still here needing you.

There are still questions only you could answer. Stories I forgot to ask about. Days I wish I could tell you about. Moments that still make me reach for my phone before I remember.

Sometimes I talk to the empty room like you’re listening. I tell you about my day, about everything that’s changed, about how much I miss you.

I wait for something. A sign. A feeling. A voice.

Nothing ever comes.

Do you hear me?

But somewhere between the hurt and the healing, I realized you gave me something I didn’t have before.

You showed me what it feels like to be cared for. You showed me how I want to be loved, how I deserve to be treated, and what my standards should be.

Maybe I learned those lessons later than I wish I had.

But not too late to carry them forward.

So, as much as part of me still hurts…

If someone wants to stay, they stay.

If someone cares, they show it.

Maybe it isn’t the same love I once had for you. Maybe it’s changed. Maybe it’s tired. Maybe it’s hanging on by a thread.

But it’s still there.

I don’t understand why I keep sticking my neck out for someone whose actions have already told me where I stand. Why I keep going out of my way. Why I keep showing up, hoping this time you’ll choose me the way I’ve always chosen you.

I know I deserve more than the bare minimum.

I know love isn’t supposed to feel this one-sided.

So why is letting go so much harder than being hurt?

I used to love without hesitation. I gave everything I had because I believed that if I loved someone wholeheartedly, they’d protect my heart the way I protected theirs.

Now I’m terrified.

Terrified that if I open up again, it’ll happen all over. That my love will be mistaken for weakness. That my loyalty will be taken for granted. That I’ll only matter when someone needs something from me.

You taught me to question something that once came naturally.

The hardest part isn’t losing you.

I trusted you with parts of me that I never let anyone else touch, and you treated them like they were nothing.

You didn’t accidentally hurt me. You knew exactly what you were doing. You just never thought I’d stop loving you enough to leave.

I begged for the bare minimum—honesty, effort, respect. And every time, you chose to give me half of what I deserved.

You watched me get tired. You watched me get angry. You watched me get quieter, more distant, less like myself.

Instead of reaching for me, you let me drown.

Don’t act confused now. I told you when it hurt. I told you when I was breaking. I gave you chance after chance to hear me. You just didn’t give enough of a fuck to listen.

What breaks me the most is that I would’ve fought through hell for you, while you couldn’t even face your own demons for us.

You’re not losing me because I stopped caring.

You’re losing me because I finally got tired of loving someone who kept choosing to hurt me.

Maybe one day all of this will hit you at once. Maybe you’ll finally understand what you threw away.

But by then, I won’t be angry anymore.

I’ll just be gone.