I Still Love Them — But I Love Myself More

Yes, I still love them.

I won’t pretend I don’t. That would be dishonest.

There are moments I think of them — the way they smiled, the way they made me feel seen, alive, significant.

That kind of love doesn’t just vanish.

But something's changed.

Not the memory. Not the care. But me.

Because now, I love myself more.

And loving myself more means I can’t stay in spaces where I shrink.

Not even for someone I once thought the world of.

🔹 1. Love used to mean self-abandonment

I used to love with full surrender.

No boundaries. No filters. No second thoughts.

If they needed me, I came running.

If they hurt me, I forgave quickly.

If they were distant, I drew closer.

I thought that was love.

But now I see:

Much of what I called love... was fear.

Fear of loss. Fear of rejection.

Fear that if I stopped pouring in, they’d leave.

Turns out, loving someone shouldn’t cost you yourself.

🔹 2. I stayed longer than I should have

There were times I felt invisible.

Voiceless. Tired.

But I stayed — because I loved them. Because I thought love was reason enough.

Every “it’s okay” I said while hurting.

Every “I understand” when I didn’t.

Every “I’ll be fine,”

— and I wasn't.

But love without mutual respect isn’t love.

It’s a performance. It’s a power imbalance dressed up nicely.

🔹 3. Leaving didn’t mean I stopped loving — it meant I started choosing

The day I walked away wasn’t because I suddenly stopped caring.

It was the day I realized I could not care for both of us alone.

That loving them didn’t mean tolerating confusion, inconsistency, disappearing acts, or one-sided effort.

I stopped hoping they’d wake up one day and treat me the way I deserve.

I stopped managing their silence, defending them to myself, waiting for “better.”

And I started walking.

Not away from love — but toward myself.

🔹 4. I still have love for them — but not at my expense

I hope they’re happy.

I hope they heal.

I hope they figure themselves out, even if I’m not there to see it.

But I no longer sacrifice my peace so someone else can feel comfortable.

I no longer stretch myself into silence to keep the vibe “easy.”

This version of me loves differently:

With presence, with depth, with standards.

And anyone wanting access to my heart now has to meet me with clarity, not chaos.

🔹 5. You can love someone and still outgrow them

That part is hard.

Still caring, still having memories that make you smile — and still knowing that going back would be betrayal… not loyalty.

I used to think love meant forever.

Now I know love can be honest and temporary.

Complete and not meant to last.

Important and still not aligned.

They were never mine to fix.

And I am no longer the version of me that needed that kind of love.

🎯 Final Thoughts

Yes, I still love them.

But I love myself more.

And that changes everything.

I no longer fight to keep a connection that costs me my voice.

I no longer apologize for needing more.

I don’t hate them. I’m just not shrinking anymore to keep them close.

Love isn’t pain.

Peace isn’t selfish.

And choosing yourself isn’t giving up — it’s finally growing up.

Letting go doesn’t mean losing love.

It means loving smart.

And I do — now.