Romans & histoires Left Them, Loved Myself

He was as broken as I was, he felt it too, the pain these distances and circumstances brought us. “Leave me, I'm happy the way I am” I spoke heartlessly, even though I wanted him to be with me. I still can’t forget the time I begged him to love me. I wanted to hug him tightly, tell him it’s gonna be okay. We could be happy together but my self-esteem didn’t let me forget what I went through.

Hindi ko na ulit ipaparamdam sa kan’ya ‘yon, yung pinaramdam ko sa kan’ya noong huli. “I may love you so much until now, Connor, but I won’t ever break a relationship just because of my selfishness. I left you before because I loved you more than I loved myself. I won’t ask you to come back to me because I know now that I am starting to love myself more.”

And loyalty without courage is just empty promises. I don’t need a mansion. I don’t need a powerful name. I only need myself. And above all, I trust myself. No one will ever push me into despair again. I am my own protector now. If love finds me one day, it will meet me as I am—whole, steady, unafraid. And if it doesn’t— I am still enough. I turned back toward the restaurant, toward the place I built with my own hands. And when I whispered, “I’m home,”

It wasn’t something you could love someone through. He left without another word, and I stayed where I was, sitting in the ruins of my own making.

“Leave please, I don’t like how I cannot control myself when I am with you “ I wanted to say something, anything. . . “ I. . . “ I paused and continued again “ I. . . “ “No please leave I have a lot of things to do, I cannot be wasting my time here with you “ I said no more, I just left, holding on to the feeling that have managed to develop in my heart. . . Love.

“I was a fool, thinking if I just waited long enough, he would come around. But he didn’t. Instead, he set me free with what he did. Whoever sent that letter, whether it was true or not, it gave me a reason to move on. To love myself again. To stand tall without begging for someone’s affection.” The conviction in my voice surprised even me. I had lived this truth for years, but saying it aloud to the woman who had once orchestrated my fate made it feel final. “No one,” I whispered, “can love me more than I love myself. And that is enough.” Margo’s tears fell freely now. She tried to reach for me again, but I shook my head, gentler this time.

He stood, collected his f*e, and left me drowning in silence. I sat for a long time after he was gone, the photos spread before me like evidence of a crime. Except the victim wasn’t me—it was the love I had convinced myself still bound us together. I loved her. God help me, I did. In my own flawed, twisted way, I loved her. But she had left. Not alone. Not in anger. Not even in shame. With him.

I realized that if I didn’t love myself, no matter how thin I could be, it wouldn’t make any difference. It was a lovely journey. My 28th birthday wish had come true: true love! Since I received the love that I prayed for, not only from others but also from myself. - The End -

“You should’ve stayed the first time.” He reached for me. But I jerked away before his fingertips could graze mine. “I need time,” I said. He nodded. “Alright.” “And space.” “Alright.” I turned and got to the door and I stood there for a while. “I loved you too, you know,” I said, not looking back. And then I left.

I sat in the back, scribbling in my old, forgotten diary with shaking hands: “It’s okay to love yourself. It’s okay to say no sometimes. It’s okay to stop, breathe, and start over. You deserve love — but loving yourself should come first.” I slammed the diary shut before the tears could fall right there in front of everyone. Because if I was being honest, this wasn’t love. It was survival. It was clinging to scraps because I was too scared of falling apart alone. I went home and sat on my bed, staring at nothing. I sat cross-legged on my bed, my eyes closed, letting those words sink in.