A Letter to the Pain I Carried

 I’ve never been one to talk openly about my personal life—especially not the parts that live deep within my soul. The kind of pain I’ve carried silently. The kind only I and one other person knew. But lately, the weight has become too heavy to carry alone.

February of this year broke me. Every day felt like walking through fire—filled with fear, pain, and overwhelming sadness. I couldn’t find the strength to believe in something good anymore. The pressure, the emotional torture—it became too much. I kept holding on because a part of me still hoped, still wanted things to turn out differently. But in my heart, I knew. It was too heavy. I was drowning in my own apprehensions and fears. Even love, as strong as it once was, wasn’t enough to keep me afloat.

So I spoke the truth I had been avoiding for so long: “I can no longer see myself with you. Not now, not in the future. I cannot imagine being happy anymore.”

It broke me to say those words—words I never thought I’d say to the one person I once dreamed of a life with. You asked me what I really wanted, and I gave you the most honest answer I could: “I don’t see myself with you anymore. Deep down, I think I knew that from the start. But I still tried. I tried to fix things. I tried to prove myself wrong. I gave everything because maybe… maybe I was the one who needed to make it right.”

But even after pouring my energy, my time, and my soul into this relationship, I kept coming back to the same place—alone, confused, and hurting. I realized I still had so many unresolved issues within myself, wounds I’m forced to deal with over and over again. Nothing was ever enough.

Writing this now, all I feel is heartbreak over how easily everything fell apart. But for the first time, I’m brave enough to say it: I gave up. I gave up because I needed to choose myself.

For so long, I lived in your shadow—measuring my worth against your expectations, losing air in a space that never really felt like mine. I tried to fit into a world that was never built for me to thrive. And now, I’m choosing differently. I’m choosing me.

I think I always knew how our story would end. Maybe it was the mistakes. Maybe it was the silence when I cried, the way my pain was brushed aside while you kept choosing what you wanted. I could no longer afford to die inside just to keep something that wasn’t keeping me alive.

You saw my tears. You saw my struggle. But you saved yourself.

Now, it’s my turn.

I don’t know where this path will take me, but I hope it leads to peace. I hope I find the version of myself who is free—free from fear, from guilt, from emotional chains. I want to be whole again. I want to smile with my soul, not just my face. I want to live without always having to explain why I’m not okay.

One day, I’ll meet that version of me again.

And when I do, I will thank her—for choosing herself when it mattered most.