They say if you love him, you’ll wait.
They also say if you love yourself, you’ll move on.
So here I am, stuck between staying and leaving, wondering how both choices can hurt this much.
I love him. The good, the bad, the chaos, the comfort. But if there’s one thing I don’t love, it’s how easily he lets me go. That’s the part that breaks my heart every time.
I’ll probably always love him a little.
He was the man I wanted to build a life with.
But loving someone and being chosen by them are not always the same thing.
Having no contact with the person you're still in love with, who, at one point in time, sent you texts that would make your heart melt. And now, you can only love them in silence from a distance, slowly being forced to close a chapter you never wanted to end. It feels like carrying the weight of unsaid words and unfulfilled dreams, as memories become your only companions. You replay those moments, knowing they'll never come back, yet clinging to them because letting go feels like losing a part of yourself.
Am I crazy? Obsessed? Maybe.
All I know is that being in his arms felt like peace.
The sound of his voice.
The familiarity of his scent.
The way my body would finally relax.
I don’t know what to call that feeling.
I just know he felt like home.
I imagined a life with you the house, the dogs, the kids but more than anything, I imagined the love
The kind of love that felt like home.
The hardest part is knowing we felt it, but never quite knew how to make it work, So now it remains what it has always been
An imagination.