When You Realize Love Is No Longer Enough

I was in love with you. I was in love with the way you made me feel. I was in love with the way you brought out this side to me I didn’t know I was capable of. I was in love with the way I could talk about anything with you. I was in love with the way you made me realize who I was and what I wanted in life. I was in love with the way you made me feel about myself.

I wasn’t in love with the bits in between. I wasn’t in love with the way you lied. I wasn’t in love with the way you deceived. I wasn’t in love with the way you disappeared without warning. I wasn’t in love with the way you led me on. I wasn’t in love with the way you left me questioning. I wasn’t in love with the way you made me feel about myself.

There were always two sides to us. Neither one lasted long but was long enough to keep me around. Was long enough for me to have a taste and wanting more but was short enough to make me forget.

Perhaps that was always the chase with us. Maybe that’s what kept it exciting. I used to have this feeling of contentment, butterflies in my stomach and my heart skipping a beat at the sight of your name on my phone. I’ve always lived off adrenaline, and this was no different. I thrived off flirting with you, off showering you with compliments, off the idea that one day maybe something would come of it. But that hope is what killed us. It is what is still killing us.

The night you told me you loved me, I should have walked away. I should have left then. Instead I took It as more hope. As a chance for the future. That was wrong of me, and on that note, I killed us too. I kept trying to revive what was already gone, prolonging the agony and ruining the memory of it. Conversations are forced and one-sided now.

I don’t give you butterflies. I don’t make your heart skip a beat. When my name lights up your phone, you don’t get excited. I am not the conversation you can’t wait to have. I am not your drunk text or good morning message. Not anymore.

All I am now is an obligation. I am a piece of a jigsaw you have no intention of finishing. I don’t want the memory of us to be tarnished. When you think of me in the future, I don’t want you to think of this. I want you to think of the start, how you felt then.

We aren’t a fairy-tale and this has no happy ending. We aren’t destined to be together and find each other in the future, like in the movies. We don’t have a bigger picture like in TV shows. We have changed, and we are no longer what I fell in love with. I was in love with what we were. So I am releasing you. I’m letting us go. I’m walking away.