Note from heart ❤️

 Written from a heart that broke but still believes in love.

I didn’t realize he was leaving.

Not at first.

There wasn’t a fight.

No dramatic ending.

Just a slow shift - a quiet undoing.

We started like a spark. Nothing too serious at first. just long conversations, random texts, and late-night laughter over things that didn’t matter. But something about him felt easy. Safe. Familiar, even though we were still strangers in many ways. I didn’t expect it to become love, but it did. At least for me.

He had this way of making the world quieter.

Of making my overthinking mind slow down.

He remembered how I liked my coffee. He asked about the book I mentioned once at 2 a.m. He noticed things the things no one else ever had. And I thought, maybe this is it. Maybe I’ve found someone who sees me.

He told me I felt like home.

And I believed him.

But somewhere between all the shared songs and “I miss you” texts, something changed.

Not in a sudden way.

In the worst way... slowly.

I’d wait with my phone next to me, making excuses for his silence. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe it’s just a phase.

But the truth was whispering to me.

And I didn’t want to hear it.

The space between us grew like an unanswered question. I started dimming myself , not wanting to seem “too much” or “too emotional.” I stopped sending long messages. I stopped sharing the small joys of my day, because they were always met with a cold “that’s nice” or nothing at all.

I remember one night in particular. I was staring at my screen, typing and deleting the same message over and over: “Are we okay?”

I never sent it.

Because deep down, I already knew.

We weren’t.

He was already gone. Just not officially.

And that’s the part no one talks about how painful it is to lose someone who’s still around.

To grieve a connection while they still exist in the world, just not in your life the way they used to.

I kept waiting for the version of him I fell for. But that person… didn’t come back.

He faded.

And I stayed. Too long.

Holding on to a version of him that no longer existed.

And I feel sorry for myself.

Eventually, I stopped texting. Not out of pride — but out of exhaustion. I was tired of feeling like a burden. Tired of waiting. Tired of shrinking just to fit into the space he was no longer willing to hold for me.

And that was the hardest part ; learning to let go of someone without closure.

Because people don’t always say goodbye.

Sometimes, they just stop showing up.

I’ve cried. I’ve questioned myself. I’ve gone through every moment wondering what I could’ve done differently. But with time, I’ve learned this: when someone really cares, they don’t make you feel like an afterthought.

Their change wasn't growth. It was neglect.

And I wasn’t too much.

I was just more than he was ready to hold.

Now, I’m learning to be my own home again. To love the parts of me that softened for someone who wasn’t meant to stay. I still believe in love  the kind that doesn’t drift. The kind that doesn’t confuse or disappear when it’s inconvenient.

So if you’re reading this, and you’re in that space between “what happened?” and “how do I let go?”  I see you.

And I hope you choose yourself.

Not because they didn’t choose you,

but because you always deserved to be chosen first.