Don't stop believing

I've always assumed the hardest part of love was finding someone who liked me back. But the truth is, starting a relationship is really tough. The real challenge, turns out, is being true to oneself in a relationship without pushing the other person away.

Looking back, to my own personal history, I see I often changed myself to fit in. This made things end badly. You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not forever.

For years, alone, I've been building walls, protecting myself from getting hurt. I thought being strong meant never compromising. And so there were no new beginnings for me. But loneliness started to feel like a heavy weight.

I craved for connection, the kind where you can be completely yourself. Even if terrified of losing myself in the process. It's like walking a tightrope, one misstep and I would fall.

Then the chance came for a new start.

The beginning of a relationship is a minefield. Every word, every action feels like a test. It's exhausting trying to figure out where you end and the other person begins. What is a healthy compromise and what is your selling out your own beliefs.

I wanted the warmth, the laughter, the shared life, and I got it all in more ways than I could have expected. But I also wanted to stay true to myself. It was a constant battle between what I needed and what I feared.

Even with so little time, we built a world together, a delicate ecosystem of shared dreams and unspoken promises. It was a world of beauty and complexity, a place where we both found solace and challenge. Yet, despite the effort poured into nurturing this garden, it began to wither, its vibrant colors fading into shades of gray.

We both tried, but it didn’t work out. You gave up, for us, perhaps. I still wanted to fight. No judgment.

It feels like a part of me is missing. Like someone ripped out a piece of my soul. The silence is deafening, a constant reminder of what’s gone. Every corner of my world echoes with the absence. The absence that left an imprint, a tender scar where joy once resided. It’s a bittersweet ache, a reminder of what was and what could be. Yet, within the quietude, there’s also a space for growth, for new beginnings, for learned lessons.

We were two soldiers on a battlefield, each with our own wounds. While I pressed on, determined to claim victory, I felt you retreated, depleted of hope, clinging to your fears. It was a mutual surrender, born of a shared exhaustion, yet a solitary defeat.

The battlefield now lies silent, a haunting reminder of what couldn’t find a place to grow. We were both casualties in a war neither of us wanted to fight. The visions of our shared dreams linger, a poignant testament to the fragility of human connection.

I choose to remember the sunlight that once warmed our shared space. The echoes of laughter and the silent understanding that bound us together are treasures I will hold close. Though the path forward is uncertain, I carry a flicker of hope, a belief that perhaps, one day, our destinies may intertwine once more.