WAITING IN VAIN: A CONFESSION OF UNREQUITED LOVE

I always thought that waiting for you would be worth it. That somehow, in the end, you'd see me the way I’ve seen you for all these years. I’ve held on to this quiet hope, telling myself that you’d eventually realize we were meant to be, that all the time we’ve spent together had to mean something. But it didn’t. It was just me, foolishly clinging to a fantasy, while you were living your life, unaware of the weight your presence carried for me.

I don’t know why I thought it would be different this time. Maybe because I wanted it so badly. Every time we hung out, every time we laughed, I convinced myself that you felt it too, that we were slowly moving toward something real. I saw every glance, every shared moment as a sign, even though deep down, I knew it wasn’t. I was building a story in my head—one where you’d eventually turn to me and realize that I was the one you’d been waiting for.

But the truth is, you never looked at me that way. You never saw me the way I saw you. I was just a friend, someone you could confide in, someone safe. And I waited. God, I waited for so long, hoping that one day you’d change your mind. I put my life on hold, ignored anyone else who might have been interested in me because I thought you were worth waiting for. I told myself it was just a matter of time.

But time has passed, and nothing has changed. I finally gathered the courage to tell you how I felt. I rehearsed the words over and over, imagining a dozen different ways it could go. I tried not to let my hopes get too high, but I couldn’t help it. After all this time, it felt like I had to take the chance, or I’d regret it forever. I needed to know if there was any possibility that you could love me the way I’ve loved you.

When I told you, your face changed. It was subtle, but I saw it—a flicker of discomfort, of pity maybe. You didn’t want to hurt me, I know that, but your silence said more than words ever could. And then, when you finally spoke, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath me. You were gentle, kind even, but the rejection still hit me like a punch to the stomach.

You said you cared about me, that I was important to you, but not in the way I wanted. You didn’t feel that spark, that connection. You didn’t see a future for us together, and you didn’t want to lead me on. And I get it. I appreciate the honesty, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. In that moment, it felt like all the waiting, all the hope, all the years I spent convincing myself that you were the one—all of it was for nothing.

I stood there, trying to hold it together, trying to smile and pretend that I was okay, that I understood. But inside, I was breaking. I had put so much of myself into this—into you—and now, I don’t know what to do with all the pieces. It feels like a door has closed on something I’ve been dreaming of for so long, and I can’t see a way forward.

I feel foolish for waiting. For thinking that if I was patient enough, if I loved you quietly from the sidelines, you’d eventually see me. But that was never going to happen, was it? I was just waiting for something that was never meant to be. And now, I’m left with nothing but the emptiness that comes with realizing it’s over before it ever really began.

I’m not angry with you. How could I be? You didn’t ask me to wait. You didn’t lead me on. It was all in my head, a story I told myself to make the waiting easier, to justify the longing. But it’s time to let go. I can’t keep holding on to something that was never mine to begin with.

I guess this is it. I have to move on, even though I don’t know how. It hurts to give up on you, to give up on the dream I’ve held onto for so long. But I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of hoping for something that will never happen. I just wish it didn’t have to end this way.