Maybe I love myself less

Tonight, I realized something I’ve been avoiding for a long time.

I’ve always believed I was okay.

Not perfect but okay. Whole, even. The kind of person who holds herself together when things fall apart. I was the good daughter, the sister who kept everything practical and calm, the friend who showed up at 2 a.m. when no one else did.

People reminded me that I was loved. That I mattered. That I was strong. And I believed them.

But if I’m being honest, I failed in the one place I thought love would make sense in relationships.

I don’t know how or when exactly it happened. I just know that I kept giving parts of myself; soft, honest, vulnerable parts to people who didn’t know what to do with them. I loved with intention, I showed up, I tried hard. But it never felt like enough.

I thought love was something I could fix. Like if I tried harder, communicated better, stayed calmer it would work. That he'd stay. That he'd see me. That he'd choose me, fully.

But love isn’t something you earn like a grade. It’s not something you can solve like a puzzle. And the truth is sometimes, it just doesn’t work out no matter how much heart you pour into it.

It hurts. It really does. Not just the ending, but the after silence, the self-doubt, the wondering: What’s wrong with me? Why not me?

And yet, I know deep down, there’s nothing “wrong” with me. I’m not broken. I’m not unlovable. I just loved the wrong guy, the best way I knew how.

When I fall in love, I fall hard.

I go mad in the most beautiful, reckless way. I give everything my time, my energy, even parts of myself I swore I’d never give away again.

I love like I’m ready to give up the world if I have to, and honestly, I think I would.

But here’s the strange part.

Even after all that, after diving in so deep something I wasn't enough.

And it’s not because he didn’t love me.

He told me he did.

He showered me with affection, made me feel seen and chosen.

He gave me the kind of love I thought I wanted and still, I found myself asking:

Why do I feel like something's missing?

I didn’t have an answer.

All I knew was the emptiness growing quietly inside me.

So I walked away.

It’s very confusing;

To be loved so well and still feel incomplete. To be held so tightly and still long for something else I can’t even name.

Maybe one day I’ll understand what that missing piece was.

But for now, I’m learning to be honest with myself, even when the truth feels heavy.

It’s sad, I, sometimes feel like that he wasn’t truly irreplaceable. God forgive me if I am being unfair, but I still haven’t fully moved on, and so much remains unclear most of the time.