Falling in love a second time made me realize that not everyone you will love romantically you will love the same.
My fist love: I liked him and he liked me, I liked him because he liked me. He took care of me and made sure that I didn’t cry and that I smiled every day. He bought me gifts for our anniversary, Valentines Day, Christmas, my birthday, and for every holiday. I loved him for that, for his caring nature and because he never missed an occasion to tell me how beautiful and smart I was.
I loved him for all of that, until the day I didn’t, until the day I took my blindfold off and admitted that he wasn’t the love I was meant to love forever.
I had refused to accept the truth that he wasn’t the love of my life. I was ashamed that I didn’t love him because how selfish and heartless could I be to not love someone who loved me with all their heart?
One night I caved and I cried. I told him I was confused and I wasn’t sure how I felt for him anymore. He understood, he comforted me and I hated that. I hated myself because despite his understanding and caring nature I felt nothing more than deep regret for not loving him like he loved me.
I replayed the various scenarios over and over in my head and despite my desire to want to continue loving him; he didn’t show up in a version of my future where I was happy. It was a sad truth to realize after many talks of getting married and having a family together, that he wasn’t the forever love. How could I be so selfish? How could I sit there and think about how I would break the heart of a man I cared for?
Despite all the questioning I know I made the right choice. I couldn’t look back ten years from now and regret a life I had built, so I had to end it now before I made a mess I could never take back. It hurt. I was the cause of someone’s pain. I dug a whole in my own life, left an empty space where once there was laughter and joy. I felt empty, numb, disappointed.