Letter to him. by Risk

Dear love,

No matter how much my mind races into overthinking every possible shadow of you, I always end up losing the argument to my heart. Because even if you were false, my happiness was true. My smile was true. My tears, my feelings, everything I felt for you was real.

The home I found in loving you still does not feel lost. I never placed you on a pedestal. I simply loved you as an imperfectly perfect human being. I never tried to categorize you into ideals or expectations I only tried to make you feel that, in that moment, you were all I wanted. People name it as blindism but all I wanted you to willingly change for good, not in a rush or imposed identity.

And if distance is what helps you heal, then I will let it exist. Because my love was never about tying you down in chains, rather it was always about helping you fly higher, even if it meant flying away from me.

People may say you were wrong, but that is their perspective. They never stood where I stood, never felt what I felt. Even if you were wrong, then perhaps I simply loved the wrong person , but my love itself was never wrong.

And maybe what hurt me was simply what felt right for you. If staying broke me, perhaps leaving was the responsibility I should have taken sooner. So , I do not carry resentment toward you anymore. I carry accountability within myself.

I feel proud that what I gave you was never built on false hope, fake promises, or manipulation. Yes, you made mistakes, but so did I. We are human beings; we hurt, misunderstand, hesitate, and fail each other sometimes.

But the grief of losing you is mine to carry. I cannot hold a grudge against you simply because you could not reciprocate my love. Maybe, to you, my love felt like sugar to a diabetic, sweet, genuine, overflowing with care, yet something your heart simply could not hold without discomfort. That does not make the sugar poisonous, nor the diabetic cruel. It only means not every sweetness is meant for every soul.

My love was never wrong. What broke me were my expectations expecting you to stay, to hold on, to love me in the same depth that I loved you. But you never truly wanted that kind of permanence, and people do have the right to choose what they can emotionally carry.

Maybe in this lifetime you remained nonchalant toward my love, but in another life, perhaps it could have been me standing where you stood. Life has strange ways of reversing roles and teaching us both sides of longing.

Still, I am grateful that you tried. That you gave me whatever you genuinely could, even if it was not forever. I respect your boundaries, your distance, your decisions because you never forced me to love you, and I cannot punish you for not falling for me the same way I fell for you.

Not everyone loves the same flavor of soul. And that does not make either person wrong , it simply means they were never meant to hunger for each other in equal ways.

 Maybe, somewhere along the way, you became an obsession to me. No, not maybe—you probably did become an obsession to me. I know how deeply I feel once I love someone. I do become obsessed; not in the loud cinematic way people romanticize, but in the quiet, consuming way where a person slowly begins occupying every corner of my thoughts, my hopes, my emotional world.

Maybe I internalized my hopes so deeply , no no not may be but I did. I did internalized my dreams of us so intensely that I started treating uncertainty like a temporary obstacle instead of an answer. I began treating every unanswered question as if its answer would eventually be “yes.”  I convinced myself that every silence would eventually become a “yes,” every distance would someday soften into closeness. And in doing so, I lived in denial of truths that were standing right in front of me.

I was so consumed with wanting you to be mine that I failed to notice that my overwhelming love may have been making you retreat further away. I became so focused on fulfilling what I wanted from love that I forgot to pause and truly ask what you wanted from it.

And perhaps that is the tragedy of intense love. It begins pure, soft, and sincere, but if left unchecked, it can slowly turn into emotional suffocation, control, or silent pressure without even intending to. I never wanted my love to become a cage for you.

So maybe, before my love could lose its purity and become something painful for both of us, the universe or God , fate, whatever higher force exists , found its own way to end what we ourselves did not know how to release.

And though it shattered me, I think a part of me understands now that not every ending is punishment. Some endings arrive to protect the tenderness that still remains between two people before it transforms into resentment, manipulation, or emotional ruin.

So now, when I look back, I no longer see a villain and a victim. I just see two human beings in the story where one could not love enough, and another loved so much that she almost disappeared inside it.