I Loved Them, But I Let Them Go... Here's why.

Love isn’t always soft. Sometimes, it arrives like a fire, hot, blinding, and too wild to hold for long. That’s the kind of love I had with her. The kind that made my chest ache in the best and worst ways. The kind that whispered, “This can’t last,” even while it bloomed.

We were the right people at the wrong time, or maybe just people holding on to a version of love that was no longer true. For a while, we tried. we really did. We bent, we stretched and sacrificed in the name of “us.” But the thing about stretching for too long is that you start to lose your shape. And little by little, I was becoming someone I didn’t recognize, just to keep our love alive.

She weren’t cruel. In fact, she was one of the kindest souls I’ve ever known. Thoughtful in little ways. Quick to smile. The kind of person who’d bring you coffee when you didn’t know you needed it. And I loved them for that. I still do, in a quiet way. But even love with good people can become the wrong place to stay.

The truth is, I let her go because I was losing myself. I was shrinking around their needs, shelving my dreams and softening my voice. Not because they asked me to, but because I wanted so badly to be enough for them. I thought if I just tried harder, gave more, loved better… maybe... maybe we’d find our way back to how things used to be.

But relationships aren’t math equations. You can’t always fix them by adding more love and subtracting parts of real self.

There was a day, I remember it so clearly, when I woke up and didn’t recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror. I’d spent so much time focused on being what she needed that I had forgotten to ask what I needed.

And when I did, the answer broke me.

I needed space.

I needed truth.

I needed the chance to come home to myself.

Letting her go wasn’t some grand or dramatic moment. It was quiet. A slow unraveling. A true moment of self reflection. It was a conversation where my voice trembled and slow tears slipped past the corners of her eyes. I think part of her knew before I did. Love can sense its own ending, even if no one says the words.

And so I let her go. Not out of anger. Not out of blame. But out of love. Love for both of us.

Some days, I miss her. Certain lyrics, scents and inside jokes still sting. But I don’t regret walking away. Because in letting her go, I found my true self once more. Now, I’m growing in ways I never could when I was trying to shrink to fit a love that no longer held me.

So this is my truth:

I loved her deeply.

And I let her go.

Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do for someone you love… is leave.

Wouldn't you agree?