I wish I never loved you

I wish I had never loved you, because losing you hurts in ways loving you never warned me about. Your name used to feel like safety— warmth in cold hands, the first full breath after years of holding it in. I would have sworn that even heartbreak beside you would have been worth surviving. But I didn’t know there was something worse than losing you completely. I didn’t know you could become my best friend again while still feeling like the love of my life. That is the cruelest part. You’re still here. Still the first person I want to tell things to. Still the one who understands me without explanations. Still the voice that calms me even as it quietly destroys me. And somehow I have to survive that— watching you move on while sitting close enough to touch. Maybe this would be easier if you disappeared. If I could hate you. If silence replaced you entirely. But instead I get pieces of you— small merciful fragments that feel like both comfort and punishment. You still send me things that remind you of me. Still laugh at my jokes like nothing between us ever broke. Still look at me sometimes like some part of you remembers us too. And I pretend my heart doesn’t split open every time. Because the truth is I never stopped loving you. I just lost the right to say it. And God, I know some of this is my fault. That’s what keeps me awake at night. I made choices thinking pain was temporary, thinking real love could survive anything. I didn’t know regret could become its own haunting. Now every memory is sharpened. Your laugh cuts. Your absence bleeds. Even the good moments ache— proof that I once held something I can never touch again. You moved forward. I stayed behind, quietly memorizing the ruins. And I wish I could say loving you wasn’t worth this hurt. But the truth is crueler. Because if you called tonight, if you needed me, if you reached for my hand the way you used to, I would still be there. Some part of me will always be there. So I carry this grief beside you— smiling through conversations that feel like funerals for a future only I am still mourning. Because losing the person you love hurts. But losing them while they’re still your best friend, still caring, still feeling like home in every way except the one that mattered— that kind of heartbreak lingers. That kind of heartbreak makes you wish you had stayed lonely instead of learning how unbearable it is to miss someone who never really left