She Was Never Mine To Love

She was never mine to love, but I did anyways. Loving her, that is. I loved her in ways I didn’t know were possible. I loved her voraciously, inconsequentially, and without consideration to my own well-being.

I loved her more than I loved myself. And that was the problem. She was never mine to love. But I did anyways.

I didn’t know how to not give myself to her. Completely and utterly, with full throttle. She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She was kind, passionate. She was like no one I’ve ever met before. She was pure magic.

Her eyes were a mirror to my soul. She was everything I wanted. Everything I wished for. Everything I hoped for. I was addicted to her presence, mesmerized by her laughter, enthralled by her silly jokes.

She was the kind of woman who’d captivate an entire room by her mere presence.

And guess what? I was that room.

She captivated me in ways most people will never fully understand. She consumed every part of me. My God, did I love that woman. I tried to be everything she wanted me to be. Each day went by and I slowly became a little less like me and more like her idea of what I should be.

There were times when I didn’t even recognize myself anymore because I became so consumed with being what she wanted me to be. And when I failed in the process, I made mistakes that were detrimental to our relationship.

I loved her, but she was never mine to love. And I realize that now.

I remember our first date like it was yesterday. We ended up on the beach at night with a bottle of wine and endless hours to talk. I can still hear the waves crashing onto the shore. I can still remember her crashing into my life.

I still recall when I asked her to be my girlfriend. We were in Paris. She had never been. Me, on the other hand, had been plenty of times. Overrated, if you ask me. But for her, I would have traveled to the moon if it meant making her happy.

I set up the room with rose petals and candles. Made a sign that said, “Will you be my girlfriend?” There were flowers, wine, and strawberries. I think John Legend was playing in the background.

Putting all this together was no easy task, especially without her knowledge.

You might be thinking to yourself, “Who would go through all this trouble just to ask someone to be their girlfriend?” That would be me. Because she was that special to me. I go the extra mile for the person I love.

My love isn’t mediocre. I love differently. Wholeheartedly, irrevocably. I couldn’t not love her. There are no words to fully express how much that woman meant to me.

You couldn’t possibly understand.

Yet she still ended up leaving, because she was never mine to love.

I just wish I would have known that before I gave myself to her in such a raw and vulnerable way.

All the pieces I gave her, I never got them back. So I had to rebuild, recreate. All the places we’d been, all the memories we made. You could close your eyes and point anywhere on a map, chances are, our lips met each other there.

I knew I had set the bar high. If I asked her to be my girlfriend in Paris, where would the next question take place? The real question. I didn’t know it then, but I planned it for a very long time.

It had to be special, incredibly special. Because she meant that much to me.

Despite all my mistakes, I loved that woman. But that was precisely the problem. I loved her in a way that she couldn’t reciprocate. She couldn’t love me the way I needed to be loved.

My love was tenacious, ferocious. I was simply not right for her. She couldn’t love me for who I was. She loved the idea of me, but not me.

So all this time I loved a person who never truly loved me the way I loved them. That is why she was never mine to love. My love for her was unconditional, but her love for me had a hundred strings attached.

This doesn’t mean that she was a bad person. She certainly wasn’t. She was good. Even more, she was great. But she was never good for me.

She was never mine to love. Because my love for her was perpetual, while whatever she was feeling for me was simply transitory. I see it now, as clear as day. Which is why it was so easy for her to move on with someone else.

When you truly love someone, you don’t just move on. The feelings don’t just go away within a few weeks.

When you love someone unconditionally to their core, they become part of who you are, part of your identity. Letting them go is like letting parts of yourself go. And that takes time.

So when someone you thought truly loved you just moves on like that, know that it was never love. Not really. It may have been special to you — it certainly was special to me — but it was never special to them.

I think about all the great memories the two of us made. The trips, the cute dates, the surprises, the effort. And I see now how one-sided the relationship really was.

We just weren’t compatible. Not everyone you love will love you back the same way. And just because you are willing to give someone the world doesn’t mean that they are obliged to want to live in that world.

You’re not wrong just because you aren’t right for someone. It simply means you were mismatched. She wasn’t wrong and neither was I. We just weren’t right for each other.

Months later, I realized that if it weren’t for me putting in all the effort, the relationship really wouldn’t have been all that special. But then again, it was only special for one person. Who do you think that person was?

I realize now that she was never mine to love.