I liked that he was broken—it feels good to admit that. It feels sad but honest. I liked what was wrong with him because it reflected some of the things I felt about myself. I analyzed him because I thought that I understood. With him, my perception shifted as unusual hopefulness hurled through. His burdens didn’t scare me because his burdens made me feel less alone—but this mirror I could bare. I felt that I could help him, fix him, and, ultimately, save him. If I couldn’t save myself—at least I could save him.
I understood his problems—or at least I thought I did. What felt wrong about him formed a clear and distinct picture, accompanied by a seemingly obvious solution. I dissected his problems while creating an action plan of how I was going to fix it all. I was going to help him in every way I couldn’t help myself.
That was then, but this is now.
It’s important to acknowledge that it will always be much easier to look at someone else rather than to look inward at yourself: naked and vulnerable. It’s even more important to grasp that loving someone does not head ownership—which means he’s not yours to fix. You’re yours to nurture because we belong only to ourselves.
Hope only good things for him, just hope from afar. Stay close only to your progress. No one needs fixing—but everyone needs love. Sometimes we need to love people from a distance—so that they can discover how to love themselves and progress forward. Maybe you couldn’t love him in the supplemental and specific way he needed to be loved—and maybe no one can—or maybe someone else will. What still stands true is that loving someone does not require you to try and fix or change someone. The only person, anyone, can fully help is themselves.
Change only what is within your control and hold your focus there.
He’s his to fix and you’re yours to love.