Letters from Xhale the magazine Words that breathe. Stories that Linger,

No, love—
I think you have to understand
the cruelest thing
about loving someone
is not losing them.

It’s knowing
you never had them
to begin with.

I knew, somewhere inside me,
that she would never love me
the way I wanted her to.

And still,
I stayed.

Still, I looked for her
in every moment,
every silence,
every little piece of time
she were willing to give me.

My fascination with her
was never something
I expected her to understand.

My infatuation
was never something
I expected her to return.

I only wanted
to feel it.

To have this love
for someone like her
was enough
to make the pain
feel almost beautiful.

You think maybe
what I feel is lust.

But, love,
lust doesn’t hurt like this.

This is longing.

This is waking up
knowing she will never be mine
and loving her anyway.

This is wanting to be held
by the very person
who will never reach
for you.

This is knowing
your heart has nowhere to go
and I’m giving it anyway.

I think that’s what love is.

Loving someone
while knowing
they may never love you back.

Loving them
without being chosen.

Without being promised.

Without being held
the way you dream of being held.

Maybe that’s what we are.

Maybe she knows
she will never love me
the way I need to be loved.

And maybe I know it too.

But somehow,
I still find a reason
to love her.

I’m used to the ache now.

I’ve learned how to carry it
without letting anyone see
how heavy it is.

And I’m okay with that.

Or at least,
I’ve learned to say I am.

I don’t need her
to love me back.

I don’t need her
to pretend.

I only need her
to believe me
when I tell her—

I understand.

I understand
that I will never be
the person she choose.

I understand
that my heart
will always ask for more
than she is willing to give.

And God,
I wish that didn’t hurt.

But it does.

It hurts more
than I know how to say.

Because I could spend
a lifetime
being unloved by her
and still—

still—

I would choose
to love her.

Not because I expect
something in return.

Not because I think
one day she’ll change.

But because somewhere
between wanting her
and losing her,

I realized
that loving her
was never about
being loved back.

It was simply
about loving you.

And I do.

God, I do.

I truly,
deeply,
and helplessly—

love her.