The Two Voices Within

There are two people living inside me, each one pulling me in opposite directions. One is the dreamer—naive, hopeful, always believing in love, in destiny, in the idea that everything happens for a reason. The other is the realist, hardened by disappointment and betrayal, whispering in the back of my mind that love is fleeting, an illusion meant to distract us from the inevitable loneliness.

I’ve spent my life caught between these two voices. The dreamer tells me to reach for the stars, to give everything, to open myself completely in the hopes of finding love. And I did. Time and time again, I gave everything I had—my heart, my soul, my trust. But no matter how much I offered, love always slipped through my fingers like sand. I tried to hold onto it, clutching tightly, but the harder I grasped, the faster it disappeared.

I gave everything, but love never stayed.

I remember her, the one I thought was different. She was the embodiment of everything I had ever dreamed of. When we were together, it felt like the world made sense, like I had found the missing piece of myself. I poured every ounce of my being into her, believing that she was the one who would stay. But just like the others, she left. Not because she didn’t care, but because I was too much. My need, my intensity—it overwhelmed her. I couldn’t understand why giving all of myself was never enough.

So, I began to listen to the other voice, the one that told me to stop trying, to stop believing. It was easier, safer, to close myself off. I convinced myself that love wasn’t real, that it was just a cruel trick played by life. The realist in me scoffed at the idea of finding someone who would truly understand, who would stay despite my flaws.

And then came the moment I dreadfully remember—the moment when the strongest love I’d ever known stood before me, offering everything I had once craved. Her love was pure, unwavering, the kind of love that people spend lifetimes searching for. It was right there, within my grasp, but I couldn’t take it. I had spent so long convincing myself that love wasn’t real, that when it finally appeared, I was too afraid to accept it.

I pushed her away.

I told myself it was for the best, that she would leave eventually like everyone else. I couldn’t bear the thought of opening myself up again only to be abandoned. So, I built walls around my heart, thinking they would protect me from the pain. But in doing so, I condemned myself to a far worse fate.

Now, as I sit here alone, I realize the truth: I rejected the love I had always been searching for. I was given everything I had ever wanted, but my fear, my doubt, my refusal to believe in the possibility of happiness drove it away. I can still see her eyes, the hurt in them as I walked away. I can still hear her voice, trembling as she asked why I couldn’t let her in.

I couldn’t answer her then, but I know the answer now. I was scared. Scared that the dreamer inside me was wrong, that love wasn’t real, that it was all just an illusion. So, I let the realist win, and in doing so, I lost the one thing that could have made me whole.

Now, karma comes to claim its debt. I live each day haunted by what I’ve done, by the love I threw away. I see her in everything—her laughter in the wind, her warmth in the sunlight, her sadness in the rain. I know she has moved on, found someone who wasn’t afraid to love her the way she deserved. And I am left with nothing but the echoes of my own cowardice.

Karma is relentless. It doesn’t forget. Every time I see love around me, every time I hear stories of people finding what I once had, it’s like a dagger in my chest. The two voices inside me are quieter now, not because they’ve made peace, but because I’ve silenced them with regret.

I had the strongest love, but I was too blind, too afraid to hold onto it. Now, I walk through life with the weight of that choice pressing down on me, knowing that I’ll never get another chance. Karma has made sure of that.