Why I Walked Away from the Person I Loved Most

It was the kind of love you read about in novels, the kind of love that promises forever and feels like it could never end. We met in college, both eager, both uncertain of our futures. He was charming, funny, the kind of person everyone wanted to be around. I was quieter, more reserved, but with him, I found a side of myself I hadn’t known existed. It was effortless, like we had known each other for years, even though we had only just met.

For months, everything felt perfect. We laughed, we fought, but always made up, always understood that we were on this journey together. His love felt like a warm blanket, wrapping me up when I was cold, holding me steady when everything around me felt like it was spinning out of control. For a while, I thought I was the luckiest person alive.

But somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

It wasn’t something I noticed right away, not when we were still in the honeymoon phase, where everything felt new and exciting. But as time went on, things changed. The late-night talks turned into silences. The spontaneous adventures turned into routine. I began to notice things about him that once seemed charming but now felt like a burden. He was possessive in ways I hadn’t seen before, the kind of possessiveness that masked itself as love. He wanted to know where I was at all times, who I was with, why I was late coming home. At first, I shrugged it off. He just cared, I told myself.

But it didn’t stop there.

He began to demand more from me, more than I had to give. His expectations were high, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t meet them. He wanted me to be perfect, to be the woman he envisioned, the one who never questioned, who never disagreed, who was always content. I tried to be that woman. I did. I changed parts of myself, molded myself to fit his ideals, all in the name of love. But the more I gave, the more he wanted. The more I lost myself.

I started feeling suffocated, trapped in a relationship that felt more like a prison than a partnership. I stopped doing the things I loved, stopped spending time with friends, stopped focusing on my own dreams. I became a reflection of what he wanted me to be, and it was exhausting. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

Then one day, I saw it clearly. I was sitting at a café, watching people around me, when it hit me. I had been so consumed with loving him, with trying to make him happy, that I had forgotten how to love myself. I had allowed his wants and needs to overshadow my own. I had sacrificed pieces of myself, and I was empty.

I couldn’t keep doing it.

That evening, I told him I needed space. I had been thinking about it for weeks, trying to find the right moment, the right words. But when the moment finally came, the words didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right. He looked at me with confusion, with pain in his eyes, and I saw the fear in him—fear that I was slipping away, fear that he was losing me.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice breaking. “What’s wrong? You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I thought we were happy.”

“I’m not happy,” I replied softly, my heart breaking with every word. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want anymore. And I can’t keep pretending.”

He reached for me, but I pulled away. The love we once shared, the bond we had built, was slipping through my fingers like sand.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice desperate now. “Please, don’t leave me.”

I wanted to stay. God, how I wanted to stay. But I knew deep down that I was no longer the person I wanted to be. I wasn’t the woman I had been when we first met. I had changed, and I had lost sight of who I was. The woman who laughed at the dumbest jokes, the woman who danced in the rain, the woman who dreamed without limits—that woman was gone. And I didn’t know if I could ever get her back while I was still in this relationship.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, choking on the words. “I have to go.”

And I walked away.

The first few days after I left were the hardest of my life. I missed him in ways I didn’t expect. I missed the way he smiled, the way he held me when I was upset. But mostly, I missed the version of myself I had left behind. I had abandoned her for so long, and now, I had to rediscover her. I had to learn to stand on my own, to be whole again.

It wasn’t easy. I cried, I questioned myself, I wondered if I had made a mistake. But with each passing day, I began to feel more like myself. I started to do the things I loved again. I reconnected with friends I had lost touch with. I took long walks by myself, allowing my mind to wander freely. I started to heal.

Eventually, I realized that sometimes, love isn’t enough. Sometimes, you have to walk away from the person you love most in order to save yourself. Because in the end, if you don’t love yourself first, there’s nothing left to give.

He’s still a part of my past, a memory I cherish, but I couldn’t keep losing myself for the sake of someone else’s happiness. I deserve to be whole, to be loved for who I am, not for who someone else wants me to be. And so, I walked away, and for the first time in a long time, I began to live again.